Everything Must Belong Somewhere
by emerald-soco
Summary: The gun goes off and the world stops. Eventual RyanSummer, picks up at the end of Season 2.
1. The Shot Heard 'Round the World

Hey, all, I don't know if this is gonna be any good, but I decided to give it a shot. I've always wanted Ryan and Summer together, so I'm going back to the end of Season 2 to make it happen. This picks up right after Marissa shoots Trey, and I know it's short, but it's just the prologue! So enjoy and please let me know if I should continue!

**The Shot Heard 'Round the World**

The gun goes off and the world stops.

Ryan watches his brother's eyes go wide, feels Trey's fingers spasm and loosen on his neck. Funny, but even once his air supply is restored, he can't breathe. He struggles to roll Trey onto his back, struggles to save a lost cause because that is what he does.

Marissa lowers the gun. From her stance by the door, she can't tell who is injured, but there is blood on the floor, tangible proof that she has done something beyond imagination. She backs out of the room slowly, her body shaking in shock, her head shaking in denial.

Seth scrambles forward to help and then freezes. It strikes him as ironic that he's been waiting all his life to play the hero and, now that the time is upon him, he is ill prepared to handle it. He has dealt with blood and gore before, but there is a world of difference between his video games and reality.

Summer is the one who finally steps forward to take control. She dials 911 (a call her pink, rhinestone-studded cell phone has never made) and orders Seth to wait outside for the ambulance and stay close to Marissa. She drags a panicking Ryan off of Trey's immobile body and applies pressure to the wound.

"Stay back, Ryan. Stay back!" she barks when he doesn't listen the first time and glares at him until he recoils. "Just calm down and try to breathe, okay? He's going to be alright."

"You don't know that," he rasps out, his blue eyes clouded with fear. It is the first time she has ever seen big, bad Ryan Atwood scared. Usually, it is him fixing the problems and facing the demons for everyone else. "You can't say that."

"Calm down," she repeats firmly and thanks God when the paramedics arrive.

The team works to lift Trey onto a stretcher and into the ambulance as a crowd begins to gather outside the motel room. A small scuffle breaks out between a distraught Ryan and the unwise EMT who objects to him riding along.

"They're _brothers_," Summer informs him and Ryan is allowed to scramble in.

Once seated, he clasps his brother's hand and swings his head around to thank Summer, their eyes locking over Trey's limp form.

"We'll follow you in Seth's car. Everything is going to be fine," she tells him again, with absolute certainty in her voice.

The doors slam shut and the world starts again.


	2. The Blame Game

**The Blame Game**

Julie Cooper knows how to make an entrance. She exercises that knowledge now, storming through the emergency's room entrance like a woman on a mission. Three orderlies and one neurosurgeon are cornered, questioned, and have scurried out of harm's way before the receptionist arrives back at her station with a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

"I'm looking for Marissa Cooper," Julie says, looking down her nose at the mousy-haired woman in scrubs. "I'm going to ask one last time and then I'm going to get mean and, trust me, you won't like me mean."

Down the hall, the small crowd stares in awe as Julie is personally escorted to them by two trembling nurses. "Julie Cooper, kicking ass and taking names," Seth mutters to Ryan, trying to lighten the mood. "She's kinda hot as a hardass."

"Not the time, Seth," Summer reprimands without looking at him. She has her hands full comforting Marissa, who has not said a word since the ambulance first arrived at the scene. "Why don't you go get us all some coffee? It's been a long night and I'm sure we could all use a little caffeine in our systems."

"You got it, boss lady." Standing, he stretches the muscles that ache from tension and leaning against the cool tile walls for the past hour. "Two coffees with cream for the chickadees and, Ryan, you like it black, right, man? Ryan?"

His friend, his brother in all but blood, looks confused when he raises his eyes, as if he's not sure where he is or how he got there. "What? Oh, yeah, black. No. None for me, thanks. I'm all set."

Seth's brows furrow in concern. "Alright, buddy, you want to come for the walk or anything? You need some fresh air?"

"No. I need to stay here," Ryan insists quietly. "I need to wait here for him."

"Okay. I'll be right back, then." He heads down the hallway in search of the nearest vending machine, bumps into Julie as she strides confidently in their direction. "Hi, Mrs. Cooper. Excellent work with that secretary, might I add. You really had her shaking in her rubber-soled sneakers."

The stare she gives him could freeze the blood in his veins. Come to think of it, it's Julie freakin' Cooper, queen of heartless bitches, so it probably has. "My daughter?" she asks icily, and he steps aside and points out Marissa.

"You're welcome," he says under his breath after she's swept past him, but cannot gather the courage to raise his voice. Instead, he turns on his heel and reaches into his pocket for his phone, trying his dad's cell for the fourth time.

Sandy answers with his lawyer voice, even though it's past midnight and he had to have been sound asleep. Seth is torn between leaping for joy and breaking down in tears at his father's voice, so calm and professional, coming in across the line.

"Dad, you have to get down to the hospital," he says all in a rush. "Ryan and Trey had a fight and –"

"Is Ryan okay?" Sandy interrupts, his tone changing to that of a parent, worried and resigned and rueful all at the same time.

"Physically, yeah, but I'm pretty sure the internal battle scars are gonna go pretty deep on this one. Dad, Trey's in surgery. He's got a bullet in his back and the doctors didn't look real hopeful."

"Ryan _shot_ him?"

"No." He glances around to make sure no one can hear him and then explains, "Marissa did."

"I'll be right there."

Seth hangs up feeling better already. There is no legal bind his father can't find a loophole for, no good cause he can't champion to a victory. As soon as Sandy gets here, he'll sort everything out and life will go back to normal. His step is a little more jaunty as he focuses on his search for coffee and leaves the tragedy unfolding behind him in the distance.

Julie reaches the three remaining teenagers and makes a beeline for her flesh and blood. "Marissa, God, I was so worried when the police called. They wouldn't tell me anything, just that there'd been an incident and I needed to get here. What happened?"

Marissa is slow to respond, wringing her hands nervously as she looks anywhere but at her mother's face. "Ryan was in a fight. Trey … Trey was on top of him, choking him. He was going to kill him. So I …"

"You what? Marissa, you what? What happened?"

"I shot him." She sounds as horrified as her mother looks as understanding dawns. "I _killed_ him."

"Oh my God," Julie whispers, bringing one hand to her mouth. She looks like she might be sick. "Oh my God. You … you killed a boy?"

"He was hurting Ryan, Mrs. Cooper," Summer jumps in, standing up to offer her best friend some moral support. "We were all there, we saw what was going to happen. Marissa saved his life."

"Oh. Well, then. That makes it all just peachy keen, doesn't it? As long as _he's_ fine." It doesn't take long for the fury to unleash itself on its favorite target. Julie whirls to face Ryan, who sits dejectedly on the floor, and points a damning finger at him. "This is all your fault. You've caused nothing but trouble since the minute you showed up and now this? Bringing my daughter into your sick life of delinquency? This is –"

"Mrs. Cooper, you're angry, I get that, but really, we can't do this right now. Look at him." Summer's eyes dart to Ryan, then back again. "He's in no shape to –"

"Oh, _he's _in no shape?" Julie's voice, carefully controlled up to this point, raises to an ear-splitting level. "He'll _be_ in no shape by the time I'm done with him! My daughter is not a criminal. Her life was about as violent as a public service announcement until she got involved with _him_."

"Please, Mrs. Cooper," Summer tries again. Ryan has closed his eyes but made no other attempt at defending himself against Julie's attack. Marissa is shivering, her eyes glazing over as her mother works herself into a tangent. "Marissa's had a horrible experience tonight. The last thing she needs is you reaming someone out right now. Just … talk to her. Please."

Julie pauses in her tangent and takes a good look at her daughter. Though she hates to admit it, Summer is right. Marissa looks terrible. She is shaking so hard that it's a wonder she'd staying on her feet and her face is completely drained of any color. "Oh, honey."

"Excuse me, we're looking for Marissa Cooper."

Everyone except Ryan turns at the sound of the new voice. A pair of uniformed police officers look at the group expectantly, the woman dangling a notepad and pen from one hand, the man younger and clenching his hat tightly in his hands.

"Th – that's me," Marissa finally volunteers.

The woman nods, her eyes unreadable. "We're going to need to speak with you, Ms. Cooper – _alone_."

"I'm coming with you," Julie states firmly and at the officers' hesitation, continues, "I am Julie Cooper-Nichols and she is my daughter. I'll stay with her until her lawyer arrives, at which time you may proceed."

Caleb may be dead and buried, but his name still carries all the necessary weight. The woman blinks once, twice, then sighs resignedly. "Fine, ma'am. Can the two of you please come with us?"

Julie steers Marissa around Ryan's sprawled out legs, stopping in front of Summer. "When Sandy gets here, you tell him to find me. Immediately."

"Will do, Mrs. Cooper." When they have disappeared around the corner, an exhausted Summer slides back down to the floor. "Whew. And then there were two."

"She's right, you know," Ryan says casually. Summer does a double take at the sound of his voice. He's barely spoken since they arrived at the ER. "It _is_ my fault. Marissa never should have been there tonight. None of you should have."

"Ryan, this isn't anyone's fault. There's no way we could've seen all this coming."

"I could have. I know Trey. He's my brother, he's part of me. I know _exactly _how he is. Trouble always finds him." He chuckles a little, the noise devoid of any real humor. "Must run in the family or something. I should've told him to get the hell out of town when he got here."

"He's your family, Ryan," Summer points out. "No one expected you to do that. No one asks that you turn your back on family."

"No. The Cohens are my family now. Sandy and Kirsten and Seth. And you," he adds, and looks at her for the first time, his eyes so intense that she can feel them on her face even after she breaks their gaze. "And Marissa. You guys are what counts. And I turned my back on all of you."

She is touched that he considers her a part of that small, special group. There have not been many people to get anywhere close to Ryan's heart, and to be on the privileged few warms hers. "Ryan. You didn't betray any of us. You were trying to protect Marissa. Seth would've done the same for me. Sandy would do the same for Kirsten."

He falls silent at that, but she can tell he is not convinced.


	3. The Vigil

-1**The Vigil**

Summer thinks she is prepared for the night she has ahead of her. After all, she's seen every episode of _The Valley_ and, therefore, been eyewitness to more than four major operations. But as it turns out, surgery on a traumatic gunshot wound is not as routine a procedure as primetime drama might suggest.

For one thing, there's a lot more silence. Her favorite television show takes great care to cut the bulk of the waiting down to a few soulful gazes exchanged while the latest emo hit plays in the background. The actual experience lacks both - everyone is avoiding everyone else's gaze in the small room Julie secured for them once Sandy arrived and convinced her to let him handle the police.

Seth is the only one to attempt conversation. Julie, his first choice, proves to be not in the mood when she actually growls at his inquiry of whether or not Marissa has a new pair of silver bracelets to add to her jewelry collection.

"Okay, she may have been married to my grandfather, but she does _not_ the whole 'Cohens make awkward jokes to get through awful situations' thing," Seth whispered to Summer, sliding into the folding chair next to her.

"Cohen." Summer gives him an only slightly less murderous version of Julie's death stare. "_Nobody_ gets that except you."

"It just takes some getting used to, that's all," he defends, looking to his oldest ally for help. "Right, Ry?"

Ryan doesn't answer. He does, however, sigh heavily and slump lower in his chair, until Summer thinks he is in danger of becoming one with the floor. "Hey, how 'bout we go grab some fresh air, Ryan?" she jumps in. "It'll do you some good."

Seth snickers. "No offense, Sum, but I think Ryan could use a little bit more than fresh air right now."

"Oh, did you have a better idea?"

His smug smile flickers a bit at the challenge. "A nice ... guy talk," he decides. "A little man to man action. Nothing a female such as yourself would understand."

Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "A female such as myself? Well -"

"Your concern is touching," Ryan finally breaks in, a ghost of his usual wry tone tinting the words. "Both of you. But you can stop talking about me like I'm not right here. I think I will go get some air."

Summer buries her elbow in Seth's ribs and, over his muffled groan, hisses, "Told ya so." He nods and waves her away, doubling over to ease the pain.

Ryan ignores them both, looking pained himself as he rises off the uncomfortable chair with a grimace. Summer recalls the struggle that has brought them all here. He hasn't let anyone touch him since they'd arrived at the ER, not even to clean his wounds, and there is a particularly nasty gash on his forehead that just screams 'infection'.

"Should I go with him?" Seth wonders aloud, as Ryan disappears into the hustle and bustle of the ER's . "We could have our little guy chat, kill two birds with one stone ..."

"I think this one requires a little bit of tact," Summer sighs, watching the blond boy's retreating form. Her hand shoots out to keep Seth in his seat. "I'll go."

XXX

"Can I ... go yet?"

Marissa has given her statement to an officer, a lieutenant, and Sandy, who is acting like a lawyer and not her boyfriend's father and thus, making her very nervous. She remembers every minute detail vividly and has not changed or distorted a single fact. She thinks that should be it; she has done her civic duty, she has performed a terrible but necessary act, and she would like to go home now.

But pajamas, hot chocolate, and forgetting this ever happened to not seem to be in the cards for her. At least, not tonight. Right now, she is being escorted to an even smaller, more private room within the hospital; a place where Sandy assures her they will be able to discuss the matter at hand privately.

She wants to scream. The matter at hand is that she is a kind of tired coffee can't help with, hungrier for much more than candy bars from a vending machine, and irrevocably injured in a way the hospital workers can not heal.

"So. Let's start at the beginning," Sandy proposes. The room houses three folding chairs arranged around a wobbly table, but he is pacing, which doesn't improve her nerves any. "You arrived at the hotel around what time?"

Marissa stares at her hands. They are folded in her lap, the proper way Julie drilled into her head when she was younger. It's hard to believe that a few hours ago, they were wrapped around a cold piece of medal, squeezing a trigger ...

"Marissa." Sandy is seated now, ducking his head to try and meet her eyes. "You still with me?"

"Yeah - yes. Yes, sorry, I'm listening." She clears her throat, shakes herself out of her stupor. "I was somewhere else for a second."

"Listen. I know this is hard for you. I know you probably just want to be with Ryan right now. But stick with me and it'll be over a lot sooner than you think."

Instead of being reassuring, his words instantly make her feel guilty. Not of the crime the police are curious about, but the fact that she hasn't even thought of Ryan since she shot his brother in the back. "Have you seen him yet?"

"Ryan?" Looking regretful, Sandy shakes his head. "You were top priority tonight, kiddo. But Seth told me he's fine, they both are, so I'm not too worried."

"And ... Trey?" The name falls from her lips carefully, as if just saying it is enough to make him materialize in front of her. "Any word on how he's doing?"

Sandy shakes his head. "Sorry. I'm in the same boat you are."

Her eyes dart to the slightly ajar door and the police officer she can see in the crack. He's been stationed outside, she knows, to ensure that she doesn't leave the property just yet.

Sandy clears his throat when he realizes where her eyes, and her mind, have wondered. "Well, not quite the same, I suppose."

"No," she agrees, her gaze dropping down to her hands, clasping them tighter to try and stop their trembling. "Not quite."

XXX

Ryan is beginning to think that he will never have a normal life. He had thought moving to Newport was a new beginning, a chance to start fresh and shift to a different track. But here he is now, sitting alone in the hospital's courtyard, reassessing the situation. Maybe 'normal' is too much to ask. Complications seem to follow him wherever he goes; he has never had a more faithful companion.

And speaking of following ... "I'm not stupid," he calls out. It's strange to hear his own voice break the night's quiet, strange to be surrounded by so much silence when all he wants to do is scream. "I know you're back there."

Summer steps out of the shadows and at least has the grace to look sheepish. "I thought you might want to be alone."

"So you followed me?" he deadpans.

"Well. I thought that you probably _thought _you wanted to be alone. But I really thought that you might really want to talk to someone." She cocks her head. "Did that make any sense at all?"

He laughs, just a little bit, and it is more of a relief than the scream might have provided. "None whatsoever."

Taking that as permission to stay, she slides onto the bench next to him. "So, I'm not going to be some big cliché and ask how you're holding up. 'Cause I know, no matter how sensitively I put it, you're just going to shrug and say 'fine'."

"Okay," he replies, mystified as to where she's going with all this.

"But," Summer continues, "I am capable of chattering about nothing for insane amounts of time and I'm willing to put that talent to use until you decide you're in the mood for sharing. So what'll it be?"

Fulfilling her prophecy, he moves his shoulders as he insists, "I'm fine."

"Fine? Okay, then. We do this the hard way. I saw the greatest article today in _Cosmo _and it was all about the summer's -"

"I hate waiting." Ryan keeps his eyes on the stars as he cuts her off. He knows she means business and, anyway, the words have been boiling just under his skin for hours. "Okay? Good enough for you? I hate waiting, and I hate not knowing how he is, and I hate this whole situation."

Summer regards his profile seriously beneath the moonlight as she adds, "And you probably hate that you still want him to be okay, even after everything."

There is a pause. "Yeah. I guess I do." He looks broken, so utterly defeated that she wants to hug him, but if she knows one thing about Ryan, it's that he doesn't hug. "I mean, how messed up am I? He blows into town, attacks Marissa, tries to _kill _me ... and I still can't imagine life without him."

"We'll know soon," Summer comforts and, taking a chance, rests her fingertips lightly on his shoulder. "One way or the other."


	4. The Damage Done

-1**The Damage Done**

The clock on the wall is weirdly loud. It counts off each passing second with an ominous tick, like a modern-day Chinese water torture. Seth can tell it's taking its toll on Julie, because every time she glances at it, her frown deepens and her pacing quickens.

It's probably some kind of irony that he's sitting with his grandfather's widow, waiting for the 'live or die' verdict on his brother's brother, but he doesn't want to dwell on that.

He wishes there was something he could do besides sit around and twiddle his thumbs. That's another kind of irony, because he's pretty sure he's spent half his life sitting around and twiddling his thumbs and it's never bothered him before. Damn Ryan for spoiling him with weekly dramatic adventures.

Still, all sarcasm aside, Seth feels a little useless. His father is negotiating with the cops to get Marissa out of any trouble she may be in and his girlfriend is keeping a watchful eye on Ryan's brooding, both Very Important Jobs. Meanwhile, he can't even look at Julie without choking on the fact that she's his ex-grandmother, much less offer her any kind of comfort.

"_What _are you staring at?" she snaps, just as he's about to make his thousandth attempt at breaking the ice. "Shouldn't you be with that juvenile delinquent you call a friend?"

"You mean your daughter?" he tosses back innocently. It's times like this he's grateful for all those years of being bullied. He's learned a thing or two about hitting below the belt. And yes, he realizes it's unfair to pick on an older, richer women, he also can't condone Julie talking about Ryan so cruelly.

Julie bares her fangs. "Clever. You must've gotten that from your mother, because God knows bringing home poor white trash wasn't your father's shining moment."

He contemplates comparing it to Jimmy's choice so many years ago, but decides that's too low a blow. Even if it is directed towards the she-devil herself. Instead, Seth decides to give sensitivity a try.

"Look, Mrs. Cooper, I get that you're upset right now. But my dad's working pretty hard to make sure Marissa is fine, so if you wanna get some aggression out, could you at least pick a new target? I can take a few punches, if that's what you need. I mean, I know, I don't look that that tough, but beneath this plaid sweater hide abs of steel and -"

"Please stop." She lifts her hands to her head. It hasn't ached like this since the first time she tasted vodka, all but fifteen and in over her head at a frat party. She doesn't think she'll ever look at her daughter again without thinking of the violent way her temples are throbbing. "Stop talking. And stop trying to be nice. It's not helping me."

"Sure, sure thing."

He busies himself with tying and untying his shoelaces, trying to remember the childhood chant that quickened the learning process. Something about a bunny and a burrow. Or not. Did bunnies borrow? He considers, but decides against, asking Julie if she knows.

Thirty seconds later, the game has lost all appeal and he couldn't care less about whether bunnies burrow, hibernate, or take swimming lessons in January. "You know," he says, ready to brave all the insults she can hurl if only to break the damn silence, "I really think Trey's gonna pull through this. I mean, if you think I'm tough, _whew_. We're probably just getting all worked up for nothing. In fact -"

Julie throws a hand up to ward him off. "What did I say about trying to be nice?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry."

A minute passes. Julie releases a long sigh and admits grudgingly, "I appreciate it, though. Thank you."

Seth flashes her a grin and straightens up. "No sweat. Hey, you wouldn't happen to know anything about bunnies, would you?"

XXX

A half hour passes before the cool night air begins to set in. Struggling not to shiver, Summer keeps her suggestion casual. "We should get you cleaned up, you know."

"It's a hospital, I blend right in," Ryan says automatically, as if he's been waiting for her to start this argument.

She scoffs. "Well, you're gonna have to rejoin the real world eventually, and not everyone there walks around with one eye swollen shut and blood dripping from their forehead."

The look he fixes her with is skeptical. "You call Newport the real world?"

"It may not be real, but ..." She shrugs. "It's home."

"That should go on the sign at the city limits."

"Yeah ... right under 'if you lived here, you'd be driving a nicer car'."

He chuckles. "It'd definitely let the tourists know what they were in for."

"They'd still flock to us. Newport looks great on brochures." Summer grew quiet for a minute. "If you'd known ... what you were in for, I mean ... would you still have come?"

"Probably." It is his turn to shrug. "I would've thought it had to be better than Chino."

"Do you still think that?"

"It ... has its days," he hedges. "It's definitely never boring. I don't know. I guess ... yeah, I do. 'Cause even on my worst days here, I've got you guys."

"To clean up the messes you make on our behalf," she smiles and stands, tugging at his hand. "Come on. No complaints. Up, up, up."

Ryan groans, but allows himself to be pulled to his feet. "It's really not a big deal, Summer. Trust me, I've had worse."

"Don't I know it," she retorts. "Ryan Atwood, the hero. I don't think there's been a day since you got here that you haven't gotten into some kind of fistfight."

He considers that statement as she leads the way to the nurse's station. The woman on duty is barely older than them and looks both horrified and interested when she glances up and takes in Ryan's disheveled appearance. "Let me guess ... I should see the other guy?"

"Something like that," Ryan says uncomfortably. The comment makes him all too aware of where they are and why and the guilt follows quickly. How could he have been outside talking so casually with Summer when his brother was lying in surgery?

"Could we borrow a first-aid kit?" Summer asks, drumming her nails impatiently on the desk. She knew female interest when she saw it, and she was appalled that this woman could be showing towards such a beaten up boy. "I'd like to get my _boyfriend _here cleaned up."

Ryan shot her a confused look, but wisely kept his mouth shut until Summer had collected the kit and ushered him into a handicap bathroom. "Uh, Summer, did you get hit in the head tonight, too?"

"Oh, aren't we clever," she sneers good-naturedly, nudging him towards the covered toilet seat. "Sit down. She was eyeing you like Seth eyes his comic book collection."

He ignores the comparison, focusing on the travel-sized bottle of rubbing alcohol she's shaking. "Is this gonna hurt?"

"Ryan." She advances on him with a cotton ball doused in the stuff. "You can't expect me to believe you're scared of a little rubbing alcohol. I've seen you take more punches than freakin' Muhammad Ali."

He winces anyway as she applies the liquid to the worst of his cuts. "Summer ... do you think he's going to be okay? Honestly."

"Honestly?" Finishing up, she caps the bottle and looks him in the eye. "If he's anything like you, he'll be back on his feet in no time. But why don't we go back up to the waiting room, see if there's been any news?"

They arrive upstairs at the same time Sandy is leading Marissa towards her mother, two uniformed cops trailing closely behind them. Simultaneously, a doctor knocks briskly on the door to announce his arrival and heads straight towards Ryan.

"He doesn't look happy," Seth murmurs and, for once, nobody shushes him.

"Ryan Atwood?" Ryan nods, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. "I'm sorry to inform you that your brother didn't make it. His injuries were ..."

Ryan stops listening, but only because another voice rises in the background, overlapping the doctors. The older officer looks truly contrite as he interrupts the procedure and draws Marissa away from the group by her elbow. He tries to be as quiet as possible, but knows everyone is listening as he makes his own announcement.

"Marissa Cooper, you're under arrest for the murder of Trey Atwood. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."


	5. The Aftermath

Hey guys, just a friendly (pleading, lol) reminder to let me know what you think of the story so far. Good, bad, ugly, doesn't matter, I wanna hear it, so don't forget to review! Thanks so much!

**The Aftermath**

Summer hasn't seen Marissa in three days. It's the longest span of time she's ever gone in her life without seeing her best friend, but the second Marissa had been released on bail, Julie had turned their house into Fort Knox. Sandy is the only one granted entry, and he's not allowed to discuss the case further than assuring Summer that everything is going to be 'fine.'

Summer has never been particularly fond of the word 'fine' as a descriptive phrase, but the past few days have led her to develop a hatred so deep for it that it rivals the loathing she holds for bad fake tans, alligator purses, and old men who wear Speedos. No matter who she talks to, everyone's 'fine'. Marissa's fine, Seth's fine, Ryan's fine.

Which is why, on the morning of the funeral, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Arriving at the Cohen residence, she skirts the main house and heads straight for Ryan's humble abode. She's pretty sure she'll find everyone's favorite brooder holed up there, refusing to speak to anyone.

"Hey, Chino, open up," she calls, banging on the door and pressing her nose to the glass. The shades are drawn, but she's almost positive she can see the shadow of a figure moving restlessly around the interior. "I can see you, dumbass."

He's sighing as he reluctantly cracks the door open. "Can I help you with something, Summer?"

"You sure can," she says cheerfully, pushing her way past him to enter. For someone so small, she's a force to be reckoned with. "You can help me figure out why no one - not even the family two feet away - has heard anything from you in the past three days."

"I talked to Sandy twice about the case," Ryan protests. Resigned to her presence, he shuffles to his neatly made bed and collapses onto it.

"Of course you did, it was your legal obligation." Summer rolls her eyes at his still form and takes the opportunity to peer at his face. His wounds are healing nicely, she notes. The visible ones, anyway. "But a little bird told me you've refused to say a word about Trey."

"A little bird, huh? Is this little bird the owner of a plastic horse and a sizable comic collection?" Summer doesn't answer, just crosses her arms and tries to look mean. "Look, Summer, there's nothing to say, okay?"

"You are such a _guy_," she gripes. "How could there _possibly _be nothing to say? Your brother was just killed by your girlfriend after _trying _to kill you. If you're really feeling nothing, I think you need to become my step-monster's advisor 'cause she's on a steady diet of whiskey and Prozac and she still gets those pesky emotions from time to time."

There's a pause. "I think it's ... _ex_-girlfriend," he finally offers, casting his eyes away so he misses the way her jaw nearly hits the ground.

"I - I'm sorry?" Summer finds herself chuckling at the ridiculousness of that statement. There's no way Marissa and Ryan have found time in the past couple days to have one of their long-winded, dramatic breakups, no way either of them has been in the right state of mind. "That's impossible."

"She won't take my calls," Ryan explains, looking - if at all possible - even more miserable. "Julie ... refuses to let me see her."

Summer takes this as an invitation to sit down, positioning herself primly next to his sprawled out body. "You tried to see her?"

"I thought it would be the right thing to do."

"I see." It's not the most romantic thing she's ever heard, but she lets it go because he's under emotional distress. "It's gonna be hard for a while, Ryan. I mean, it was pretty traumatic. For all of us."

He sits up, shakes his head vigorously to clear it. "I know. I'm sorry. Guess I've been kinda selfish, huh? I haven't even asked how you're holding up."

"Are you kidding me? Listen, Chino, I'll deny I ever said this, but you're probably the least selfless, kindest person I've ever met." She bumps his shoulder gently with her own. "Trust me, I'm doing just fine. And it's perfectly normal that you're not. It just takes time."

His mouth opens, but a knock sounds on the door and Seth pokes his head in before Ryan can say anything. "Hey, man, listen, it's getting kinda late and ... Summer. I didn't know you were here. What - what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to ride with you to the service," she answers, crossing the room to him so he can sling one arm casually around her shoulder. "I just thought I'd stop in and check on Ryan, make sure he was running on schedule."

"Aw, my little woman's such a mother hen," Seth clucks, pulling her close. She shifts a little bit, uncomfortable with showing such affection in front of their grieving friend. "We should get going."

Ryan stands slowly, looking like it hurts. Summer winces in sympathy pain, imagining the bruises that must be fading on his back from his struggle with Trey. "Yeah. You know, you guys don't have to come, it's ..."

"Ryan." Summer stops him with a word, a look. "We wouldn't be anywhere else."

XXX

It's stupid, but Ryan finds himself scanning the small crowd for his mother's face. There's no way she could have heard about the loss of her oldest son, but he thinks it should be something a mother just feels.

He spots Theresa, hand in hand with Eddie, and nods. There are a few more people gathered around them, Trey's old crowd. He recognizes some, despite the fact that it's the first time he's ever seen them serious. Trey and his friends were always laughing maniacally, slapping five over stupid jokes, flashing grins that belied a new plan.

Sandy stands next to the priest, taking on the role of father for yet another Atwood brother. He looks older than Ryan's ever seen him look. Lines have appeared on his face, around his eyes from squinting with worry, around his mouth from frowning. Kirsten is in rehab and Sandy should not have to deal with this mess.

Sometimes Ryan is sorry they ever met.

Seth and Summer make sure to stay close but out of the way, lingering a few behind him and stepping closer every time he shifts. He can feel their presence at his back, Summer's watchful gaze and Seth's baited breath. It's comforting, but a little suffocating at the same time, as if they're both just waiting for him to make a wrong move.

The priest asks if anyone would like to say a few words about the departed - that's how he puts it, the departed. As if Trey has boarded an airplane and is headed for a Hawaiian vacation. All eyes immediately go to Ryan.

"Uh. I guess, uh, first of all, thanks to everyone for coming out. I - I know Troy would, uh, appreciate it." Ryan stops, reviews the sentiment. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry. That's a lie, I think. I don't know what Troy would appreciate.

"Truth is," he continues, "I grew up with him, and I could never figure out what it was that could possibly make him happy. I guess he was like our dad in that respect. Never satisfied."

He raises his head to gauge the crowd's reaction. Sandy's cool blue gaze is understanding as he nods silently, encouragingly. Seth's forehead wrinkles as he tries to process the huge weight of the words. Summer's eyes, the deep brown of them, are bottomless in their sorrow.

"So I tried my hardest to keep him around. I'd already failed with my dad. I knew that I couldn't let that happen again. I did everything Trey asked of me - stole things, sold things, whatever. And it was never enough. He always needed one more favor."

"Amen to _that_," one of his friends murmurs, and their whole clique, minus Theresa, titters.

It's inappropriate, but so true that Ryan cannot hold in his own chuckle. "I was helping him out for the thousandth time when we got caught. I was lucky enough to get off easily - the Cohens took me in. Trey wasn't so lucky. He had all these plans and he - they just never worked out.

"He had _plans_," Ryan repeats. His voice breaks a little and he feels Summer and Seth inch forward. "I think he could've done great things. Once he'd straightened out and all, I think ... I just wish he'd gotten the chance. I wish he'd given himself the chance."

Ryan steps back, away from the grave, away from the last shred of his former life. Seth and Summer are so close they don't even have to move, they just extend their arms and draw him into their circle again. He closes his eyes, soaks up the feel of being surrounded by family, and begins to breathe again.


	6. The Trial

-1**The Trial**

Until coming to live with the Cohens, Ryan had never owned a suit. Now, he feels like the goddamn things make up his entire wardrobe. It started out alright - suits for a bunch of social functions he didn't fit in at, itchy and uncomfortable and always, always a too-tight tie, but still, it wasn't so bad, seeing how the other half lived.

Now, like everything else in his life, it's snowballing out of control. A suit for his pseudo-grandfather's wedding to a gold-digger, a suit for his funeral soon after, then Trey's service, and now there is Marissa's trial. There is always a good impression to be made, always an air of collected and poised to put on.

He gives his tie one final tug and turns his back on his reflection.

"Lookin' sharp, kiddo," Sandy compliments, tugging at his own tie in silent commiseration. He may have spent most of his adult life dressing the part, but deep down, he'd be more comfortable in almost anything else - including, but not limited to, a wetsuit, a clown suit, or his birthday suit. "You ready for this?"

He considers lying, but decides against it. Sandy doesn't deserve dishonesty and Ryan really doesn't have it in him to fake anything. "No."

Sandy looks surprised by the admission, but shrugs it off quickly. "Yeah, well, how could you be, right? Don't worry about it. You won't even be testifying today. Probably not for a few weeks. These things take a lot of time."

"Good thing I have a lot of that on my hands these days," he says in a self-deprecating fashion that mimics Seth's particular brand of sarcasm.

"Things will settle down," Sandy assures him, laying a hand on his shoulder. With his free hand, he offers Ryan a freshly cut bagel. "Eat up. There's never anything to do in court but think about how hungry you are."

XXX

It turns out Sandy is right. Ryan's stomach begins to grumble midway through the opening arguments and by the time the judge sees fit to take a fifteen minute recess, he thinks he might actually be capable of eating a horse.

Unfortunately, the vending machine has no sympathy for the intensity of his hunger pains. There is an odd clanking noise as his selection bucks in its slot, making no promising forward motion. "No, no, no," Ryan murmurs, as if his life depends on it. It doesn't, of course. Worse case scenario, he can hurry to the deli across the street, but it is suddenly of the utmost importance that he gets _this _bag of Cheetos.

"You have to kick it, Chino," Summer advises from behind him.

Her voice is calm and sure and completely unexpected. He thinks that's fitting of her whole personality. Summer challenges every preconception people have about her and she does it every day, just by being herself, all confidence and sincerity and nothing anyone expects.

"Wh - what?" he stutters, caught off guard.

With a sigh, she pushes him gently aside and gives the vending machine an impressive kick. The Cheetos waver back and forth for a moment before falling. Summer bends, retrieves the bag, and dangles it in his face. "See?"

Grateful, he tears into the bag and chows down. "Pretty nice legs you got there," he comments, then backtracks when he realizes how that probably sounded. "Uh. Your kick, I mean. It was - it's a - uh, a strong kick."

She cuts in, letting him off the hook with a smile. "Cardio kickboxing three times a week since I was twelve." He nods. There is a silence, probably their first that hasn't been interrupted. "So. How're you holding up?"

"Well. For starters, I don't even eat junk food and yet, here I am." He shakes the bag for emphasis. "My ... Marissa, I don't know what she is to me anymore, is on trial for the murder of my brother. Kirsten's in rehab. I don't know ... I don't know why I'm still talking. You know all this already."

"I didn't know about the junk food thing." Summer laughs lightly at the blush that works its way up from his collarbone. "Relax, Ryan. It's just me."

"Right. Sorry." He gives her a quick grin and gestures to the door of the courtroom. "We should get back inside."

"You know," she says conversationally as they head towards the entrance, "We're all supposed to be on the beach right now, drinking Mai-Tais and loving life. This is gonna be one long-ass summer."

XXX

It turns out Summer is right, too. The first few weeks of June stagger by in an endless series of 'court in session, court adjourned' and gavels banging. The sound gives Ryan a permanent headache.

Marissa takes the stand on the twelfth and it's the first time any of them have seen her in weeks. Her hair falls halfway down her back stick-straight and a lighter, luminous shade of blond. She's dressed professionally in a crisp buttoned Oxford and pinstripe pants, no trendy club shirts or boho chic for her now. She looks like an A-plus student on the way to an Ivy League interview; the wholesome girl next door Ryan once mistook her for.

"Good approach," Summer whispers approvingly to Seth. "She looks killer in that outfit, jurors five and seven already want to keep her around."

Marissa swears to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth and proceeds to go through five days worth of questioning, cross-examining, and counter-examining. By the time he finally has to testify, Ryan has heard the story retold so many times that it's almost like fiction.

He makes the same promise Marissa had to and settles in to the witness stand. He doesn't know why whoever designed courtrooms confined witnesses to such a small space. He feels trapped before the questioning has even begun.

"Could you describe your relationship with the deceased?" The district attorney resembles a shark, teeth bared and a nose for blood.

Ryan hesitates. "It was ... complicated."

The D.A. shoots a meaningful look to the jury stand, as if he's communicating, _See? There it is. Guilty._ "Care to elaborate, Mr. Atwood?"

"We were brothers." Ryan shrugs. "We disagreed, we fought, but we loved each other."

"And you were certainly fighting on the night in question. The record states that the deceased had you pinned to the ground and was choking you. Can you confirm this?"

He still wakes up gasping, convinced that Trey is draining the life from him with a viselike grip and no mercy. "Yes."

"For what reason?"

Ryan's eyes cut to Marissa. She's watching him closely, squeezed between her mother and her lawyer like bodyguards, and she looks smaller than he's ever seen her. "He was - he had hurt Marissa, a few weeks before. I confronted him and - and he got the upper hand."

The D.A. doesn't look too impressed. "Is that how you usually solve your problems?"

Summer's snicker reaches his ears. "Uh ... yes."

"But this night was different? You believed your life was in danger?"

"Yes." 'Over' would be a better word, Ryan thinks. He thought his life was over. A part of it is, he knows that.

"Why?"

"He ... he wasn't joking around. It wasn't like we threw a couple punches and called it a day. He was choking me. He wasn't stopping. He would've ... if Marissa hadn't done what she did ... he would've killed me."

"So it was necessary for her to shoot him?" The D.A. pauses for dramatic effect. "In the back?"

Ryan hesitates. Trey may be dead, but this is still a betrayal. He is telling the truth to save Marissa's life and, at the same time, selling his older brother out. Trey Atwood will go down in the books as a criminal, a would-be murderer. But Marissa will be free and he owes her that, at least.

"Yes." His own voice is weak, so he nods to reinforce his words. "I believe so."

The D.A.'s lips purse. "No further questions."


	7. The Guilt That Lives On

**The Guilt That Lives On**

A week after Ryan's testimony has kept Marissa's record clean, Julie tries to celebrate the innocent verdict with a homecooked meal. It goes about as well as anything else has in the past month. Considering that Kirsten was her mother's culinary mentor, Marissa isn't too surprised when the smoke detector begins to beep and Julie declares a slight change in plans.

"You pick the restaurant," her mother encourages, grimacing at the blackened mess she's busy wrestling from the oven. "I don't even care if it's seafood."

Marissa bites back a sigh. Julie is acting like forcing herself to eat fried calamari and jumbo shrimp is the biggest sacrifice a person can make. Never mind the fact that Marissa traded one human's life for another just last month and hasn't had an appetite since she spent an hour scrubbing flecks of blood from her nails.

"You're getting too thin," Julie says just then, her brand new maternal instinct kicking in. "Your senior portrait's scheduled for August and you don't want to look like a skeleton."

"Of course not." Marissa rolls her eyes. "But I'm not really hungry, Mom, maybe we could skip the celebration dinner?"

Julie pauses. "I see. You know, Marissa, if you're really that opposed to spending time with me, you can just say so. No need to go on a hunger strike. I'll order you a pizza and go out with some of the girls from the club."

"Mom …" Only Julie Cooper could turn her daughter's lack of appetite into a personal attack against her. "No, don't do that. I want to go out with you. How about that Italian place you're such a fan of?"

Julie positively beams at the prospect of her favorite fettuccini dish. "Well, if you insist."

The thing about Julie, Marissa thinks as they gather their purses and head for the car, is that her self-absorption isn't an act. She legitimately thinks the universe revolves around her; that you're for her or against her, and God help you if it's the latter. There is no room for shades of gray in her world.

Which is why she doesn't understand Marissa's guilt. She's been declared innocent of the crime she committed and therefore, it just doesn't matter anymore. So what if someone is dead because of her actions? So what if there was a long, trembling moment just before she pulled the trigger where she thought _I don't have to do this_ and then did it anyway?

Trey is dead. In Julie's eyes, he is collateral damage. He posed a problem and now he doesn't. As for his brother, well, Marissa has been forbidden from ever seeing Ryan again, under penalty of death. And although she's sure her mother would never actually lift a finger against her, she knows from personal experience that Julie has a variety of ways of making someone so miserable that death would be the preferred alternative.

"Well, this is lovely," Julie is saying as the maitre'd pulls out their chairs and pours her a glass of Merlot. "Just what we needed to put this nasty business behind us, a girl's night out and –"

Marissa hasn't really been listening, but the sudden lack of Julie's forced chatter brings her back to attention. Her mother's mouth is still opening and closing, but there is no sound coming out. It's a huge improvement, she thinks, and then she follows Julie's line of sight and realizes why she's paused.

Everyone in the restaurant is staring at them. The evening meal crowd at _DaVinci's _is of high caliber; it's the hot spot for some of Newport's finest. They come early and stay late, lingering over a third glass of wine or a twelve dollar dollop of sorbet to exchange gossip. And right now, Marissa is the number name on everyone's lips.

"Shouldn't she be in _prison_?" one wealthy wife whispers to another, not bothering to conceal her disdain.

"Wanted for murder last month," a businessman explains to a group of out of town associated. "Shot a boy in the back."

"From _Chino_, no less," another Newpsie confirms.

Julie, for all her faults, is not a weak woman. She straightens her spine, squares her shoulders, and summons a smile. "I think I feel like something new tonight. Maybe I'll wait and hear the specials."

Marissa hesitates. It isn't fair to subject her mother to all this just in the name of pretending thinks are okay. As much as Marissa sets hardly any store in Newport's hierarchy, she knows Julie has fought long and hard for her position in it. "You know what, Mom? Why don't we go back to our place and just pig out on whatever junk food we can find?"

"Are you sure?" Julie glances around at the hostile stare and bristles. "Because these people do not dictate how we spend our time, Marissa."

"I'm sure. Besides," she adds, raising her voice to be sure the clientele hears, "I heard Helen Richards got food poisoning here last week. Something in the sauce."

The conversations around them quickly grasp on to the new development and, as the murmured accusations and claims of feeling 'off' begin, Marissa leads her mother to the exit with a smile on her face.

XXX

Ryan has lost to Seth in seven different video game fight-to-the-deaths and is about to call it quits when Summer arrives. "Boys, boys, boys," she chides gently upon finding them glued to the TV. "This is not what people do on Friday nights."

"She's right, man." Seth nods sagely. "I'm ashamed. We're way beyond this on the cool scale. If the scale is one to ten, we're twenty. If it's like the Richter, we're ten point five, baby."

"Honey?" Summer interrupts. "We get it."

Ryan hides his chuckle with a cough and shifts to provide Summer a seat on the couch between them. She settles herself in gracefully and pats his knee, putting every nerve ending in his body on high alert.

He blinks at his body's reaction to her touch. This is Summer Roberts, here. His almost-brother's girlfriend, his almost-girlfriend's best friend. The girl who refused to acknowledge him as anything other than 'Chino' for the first three months of knowing him. The one who wrinkles her nose at even the word 'dirt', has never repeated an outfit in all the time he's known her, and who is wrong for him in every possible sense.

So why should the lightest touch of her fingers on his knee send his mind into a tailspin? Why should he find himself zeroed in on her mouth and unable to look away as she holds a murmured conversation with Seth?

"Ryan? Hello? Earth to Chino." Exasperated, Summer snaps her fingers a few times inches from his nose. "There you are. Any suggestions?"

"Suggestions?" He doesn't have the slightest idea what they've been discussing. "For what?"

Summer's eyes roll. "For something to do tonight? Preferably – and by preferably, I mean definitely – something that doesn't involve the television screen, the couch, or even this house."

"The … Bait Shop?" He immediately regrets the suggestion. There are too many memories housed in the local club, too many good times shared between the four of them over drinks and loud music. But Summer's eyes are lighting up and he doesn't want to dim the spark.

"Great!" she approves, in obvious delight. "I'll call Coop, see if she's free from house arrest yet."

"Yeah, it'll be just like old times," Seth nods, grinning at the idea of all of them being together again. These last few weeks have been hard to take, all the tension and the obvious missing pieces and the walking on eggshells. He thinks it'll be nice to feel normal again.

"We should leave her alone," Ryan vetoes. Both members of the super couple turn pouts on him. "She needs more time, you guys. She'll let us know when she's ready."

Summer frowns. "More time? It's been over a month. I say she needs to get out and have some fun for a change."

"Well, you'd probably have a different opinion if you'd been the one to kill someone," he says, more harshly than he meant to, and feels bad at her wounded expression. "Sorry. I'm sorry, look, I'm not trying to be –"

"It's cool." Summer fends off his apology with one raised hand, her eyes darting around the room to avoid his gaze. "My fault. I was being insensitive. Too much time with Seth here, I guess. Listen, I'm actually not even wearing a good outfit, so I'm gonna head home and check in with my Dad and leave you guys to your male bonding rituals. See you tomorrow?"

She stands, and Ryan feels the broken connection pinch his heart, the first thing he's actually felt in weeks. "You don't have to," he begins, lamely, wanting her to stay, wanting her thighs to keep brushing against his, but it's too late. She's heading for the door and looking back. "Leave."

He sighs and, with Seth's troubled eyes on him, drops his controller and goes to the front door to watch her taillights disappear into the night. Story of his life. Just when he's grown used to someone being around, he screws up and sends them running and he's just as lonely as ever.


	8. The Star Crossed Lovers Gig

**The Star Crossed Lovers Gig**

"I can't see him, Summer."

Marissa keeps her head buried halfway in the closet she's poking through as she turns her friend down flatly. Even so, she knows exactly what she'd see if she turned around. Summer's hands are on her hips, her head cocked to the side, one foot tapping impatiently as waits for further explanation.

"And why not?" Summer explodes when a few minutes have passed and Marissa hasn't volunteered any information. "He's your boyfriend, Coop. He cares about you."

"_Was_ my boyfriend," Marissa corrects her, still sifting through hangers. She needs a new wardrobe. Every outfit she owns belongs in her old life and she's not the same person she used to be. "Before I killed his brother."

"To save _him_," Summer points out. "Ryan knows that you only did what you had to do. He's grateful to you, you saved his life."

"And he saved mine with his testimony." She knows what would've happened to her had Ryan not come to her defense. Sandy was always careful to skirt around the issue's edge, but she could hear the underlying meaning of his lawyer-speak. "We're even. We're over."

Summer rolls her eyes at that particularly dramatic statement. "Please, you and Ryan have been "over" like, seventy two times. It's never lasted more than a month."

"Stop it." It's the closest Marissa's come to yelling since everything happened and they both stiffen at the raised decibels. "I appreciate your concern but, really, it's between Ryan and I."

"Not if you won't even talk to him, it's not," Summer argues, stubbornly refusing to back down.

Apparently, she's obtained some of Seth's superior nagging skills since entering into a relationship with him. Which makes sense, because the only reason Marissa's still standing is that she's channeling Ryan's characteristic stoicism. It's strange how much of each other they all make up.

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you, Summer," Marissa says, and there is a tone of finality in her words. "I don't have to explain myself. It's my choice and I don't want to see him. Please don't push me."

Summer lets it drop, but only because if they get into a fight, Marissa is all the less likely to go along with her plan, when she devises one. Summer likes things neatly arranged, gift-wrapped in shiny paper and pretty bows. Ryan and Marissa are two dangling strings and she firmly believes that if she can tie their loose ends together again, everything else will fall into place.

XXX

"I can't see her, Summer."

Unlike her best friend, Ryan meets her eyes steadily as he says it. On his tongue, the words are not a denial, but a confession. Whereas Marissa's _can't _is interchangeable with _won't_, Ryan's is a long-suffering sigh, an admittance of defeat.

Summer strikes the same fighting stance she took against Marissa's argument, fisted hands on jutted hips, her toes transmitting Morse code to the floor. "And why not?" she demands for the second time that day, not understanding why no one will help her rebuild their ruins.

He shrugs, at a loss. "Julie isn't letting me within ten feet of the house."

"So?"

"So it's not just that, Summer." Ryan sighs and collects his thoughts. "It's not just her mom. I've called her cell phone. She doesn't answer and she doesn't return my messages. It's her decision."

"Yeah, that's what you both think," Summer mutters darkly. She broods for a few minutes, her brows knitting together, and then Seth enters the room and does a double take.

"Whoa. Summer, you look like Ryan," he proclaims, pressing a kiss to the crease in her forehead. "You guys have been spending way too much time together."

Ryan chuckles uncomfortably and wonders why his skin suddenly feels too tight. Ever since the other night, when Summer's fingers touched his knee and ignited his veins, he's felt oddly guilty around Seth. It's not like he's done anything wrong, but still. Being attracted to the only girl his brother's ever loved – even if it was only for an instant – feels like a betrayal.

"I was just trying to convince him to go out with Marissa this weekend," Summer says smoothly, confidently, but her eyes linger on the boy in question as she shifts into her boyfriend's waiting arms. "Don't you think it'd be good for them?"

"Yeah, great idea," Seth enthuses. "We haven't had any fun in awhile. What if we caught a movie? Oh, or hit the Bait Shop? I feel like I haven't been there since … I worked there that time."

"Cohen." Summer's withering glare shuts him up. "It's not a group activity. Ryan and Marissa need some alone time to sort things out."

"That, too." Seth nods along, not wanting to point out that Ryan and Marissa 'alone time' usually has the outcome of, well, a shootout. Motionless bodies and open wounds all around. "You should do it, man. You're probably the only person she wants to talk to."

Summer gives Ryan a pointed look, as if to say, _See? Even Seth gets it. _Understanding the unspoken message, Ryan relents. "Okay. If you two are actually agreeing on something, you must be on the right track. I'll give it a try. _If_ Marissa agrees."

Thinking back on the conversation she'd had earlier with her best friend, Summer only nods grimly. "Oh, she'll agree," she promises. "Seven o'clock, Friday night. It's a date."

XXX

To keep up appearances for Julie, Summer picks Marissa up and drops her off at the diner. Ryan is waiting outside, slouched against a telephone pole, and he leans into Summer's window as Marissa lets herself out. "Thanks for helping out with this, Summer," he says earnestly, "Did she – say anything on the way over?"

"Just that she was excited." Summer tells herself the lie is for a good cause. It had taken some major cajoling to get Marissa to come and she'd been oddly silent on the ride. "Good luck, Chino."

Then she pulls away from the curb, leaving Marissa on the sidewalk and Ryan in the street, standing a strange distance apart. Wondering why she ever agreed to this, Marissa is the first to speak. "So, uh, how have you … been? With everything?"

"I'm okay," Ryan answers truthfully. Because it's ridiculous that they be standing so far apart, he inches closer. "How about you? The trial … it must have been tough."

"It's over now." She shrugs. Funny how with everything they have to talk about, she can't think of a thing to say. "I'm sorry, Ryan. About Trey."

"No. I am. He shouldn't have … he shouldn't have," Ryan finishes lamely. Even he doesn't know if he's referring to what his brother did to Marissa or him or both. "It's better this way, I think."

It's the first time they've acknowledged the corner they'd unwittingly turned that night. Nothing will ever be the same again. It's a different world now and Trey's death will always weigh on Ryan's shoulders, lurk in the edges of Marissa's nightmares.

But they're both still breathing, hard as it sometimes seems, and that has to count for something. There is a few feet of concrete and a world of tragedy between them, but their eyes are meeting for the first time in months and neither is looking away. That has to count for something, too.

Marissa works up a smile as Ryan moves past her to hold the door and they cross the threshold at the same time, perfectly in step, and the hope that blossoms in her chest counts for more than anything else.

"How'd it go?" Summer asks eagerly, when Marissa has climbed back into the car an hour later.

Her friend smiles a little, the first upward motion her lips have made in months. "Good," she replies vaguely, like she is harboring a secret close to her heart. "It went really good."

And Summer smiles, too, because her best friend is on the road to recovery and she chauffeured her there, but then she looks in the rearview mirror and her grin falters. Ryan is shrinking, fading from her sight as the horizon and Marissa's grin swallow him up, and she doesn't think she should be this sad about leaving her best friend's boyfriend behind.


	9. The Fireworks Part One

**The Fireworks (Part One)**

Seth is beyond excited when Ryan returns home and tells him the date went well. "As good as can be expected," are his exact words, and while Seth isn't quite sure how good that is, he overlooks Ryan's vague tone in favor of optimism.

"This is great, man, seriously," he says, following the blond boy through the house to get the details. "We can all start going out again, hitting the streets, you know, really partying it up."

"I think we're gonna take it slow," Ryan cautions, wanting to curb his friend's enthusiasm before it gets out of hand. "A lot of stuff has happened, Seth."

Seth refuses to heed the warning. "Yeah, but just think about it," he presses, his eyes alight with excitement. This is what he – what they've _all_ – been waiting for. With Ryan and Marissa together again, the rest of the world will surely fall right back into place. "The fab four, reunited. There'll be t-shirts, hats, buttons. We should have buttons. Nothing flashy, of course, just a tasteful little pin with our silhouettes or something. Oh! We could do, like, the Beatles walk."

Ryan shakes his head and tries to follow. "The Beatles walk?"

"Yeah. Come on, you know. _Abbey Road_?" He swings his arms out and takes a wide stride, freezing mid-step to imitate the pose. "The most famous man-crossing-street picture ever?"

"Oh, I get it," Ryan affirms with a nod, although he has no idea what the infamous Beatles poster has to do with his and Marissa's current situation. Seth's thought trains are, at best, long and winding and missing several key stops. "So, uh, how does that … relate?"

Seth considers for a moment, then shrugs and flops down on the couch beside Ryan. "It really doesn't. So are you gonna ask her to the cookout?"

"What cookout?"

"Dude. The annual Cohen fourth of July B-B-Q." Seth stares at him, hard, as if there's no way he hasn't heard this mentioned a thousand times. "The one time of the year when anyone in this family even attempts to cook. Dad grills, Mom tosses salads … it's like Chrismukkah in July. Which we should also start celebrating."

"I don't know, man," Ryan sighs. The date is replaying itself in his head: Marissa's quiet chuckle, the knowing smile the waitress gave them as they lingered over coffee. They'd made the perfect picture of a young couple in love, he knew. He just wasn't sure how accurate a portrayal of his feelings it had been. "I guess I can't _not_. She lives right next door."

"She'd definitely smell the burning." Seth nods sagely. "The whole neighborhood always can. Dad doesn't have the greatest attention span."

Sandy's chuckle precedes him into the living room as he overhears his son's comment. "Well, you had to get it from somewhere," he retorts good-naturedly, swatting the back of Seth's head. "Ryan. How was the date?"

"News in this house sure does travel." He's smiling as he says it. A family that trades gossip and thrives on laughter was beyond his reach once upon a time and the recent events in his life have reminded him how lucky he is to have the Cohens. "It went okay."

"Good, good. Invite her to the cookout, okay? We need all the bodies we can get for the bucket brigade." Sandy exits the room before they can see his grin flicker and fade, his mind on the one body that won't be attending.

Ryan is focusing on the same thing. "Has he, uh, talked about your mom at all?" he asks Seth. "Since she left?"

"We've been a little distracted," Seth points out. "But I'm sure she's fine, you know us Cohens. Can't hold us down."

Proving the point, he scurries out the same way his father did before Ryan can further question him. Alone, Ryan leans back into the couch and closes his eyes, thinking, then pulls out his cell phone. The operator politely asks how she can help him and he grits his teeth before replying, "I'd like the number to the Newport Rehab Clinic, please."

XXX

Sandy almost burns the house down before the guests even get there, and Ryan takes it as a bad omen about how this party is going to turn out. He and Seth do the best they can in the kitchen, chopping lettuce and dicing onions, but all three of them are hyperaware of the missing ingredient.

"Seth's taking it pretty hard," Summer murmurs to Ryan, when she has finally snagged a moment of alone time with him. The hosts are entertaining their guests on the patio with their patented Cohen-male-banter-bonding, leaving Summer and Ryan to clean up the mess they'd made with all their preparations. "Kirsten being gone, I mean. Now that everything else is … settled, I think it's starting to really sink in with him that his mother is in rehab."

"I guess Trey and I were a pretty good distraction," Ryan responds wryly. He's glad to have Summer for company right now, glad that someone else is seeing what he sees when he looks at Sandy and Seth. It feels good to have someone to talk to rationally about the chaos that surrounds them on a daily basis. "What do you think we can do?"

She bites her lip. "I really don't know," she answers honestly, shrugging and passing him a plate she'd towel-dried. "I've tried getting him to open up about it, but he just makes some stupid joke and changes the subject. Or, worse, leaves."

"Yeah, been there," he says, recalling Seth's abrupt departure from the living room a few days ago. "Who'd ever think I would be following Seth around, begging him to talk?"

"It's like we've entered the Twilight Zone," Summer agrees, and her light laughter cuts off shortly when his fingers brush hers over another plate. Their eyes meet, hers wide with surprise and his narrowed in study of her face. "Where, uh, everything's … different."

Summer finds herself unable to breathe. How can she be expected to maintain any normal function when Ryan seems to be standing closer than he was a minute ago and his gaze is definitely focused on her lips as she wets them nervously? She is sure she is going to spontaneously combust from the heat of his stare when the front door swings open and Marissa's familiar voice calls out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

The plate drops to the floor as Ryan and Summer jump apart, the crash bringing Marissa hurrying into the kitchen. "Well, you don't have to look so guilty," she chastises them gently, after assessing the situation. "It's just one plate. No big deal."

"Yeah," Summer breathes, moving to put the counter between herself and Ryan. "No big deal. Sorry about that, Atwood. I'm such a klutz."

Marissa's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "_You_ dropped it, Sum? Since when do you have butterfingers?"

"I made her nervous," Ryan pipes up, before Summer can think of anything to say. His eyes stay on her even as he pulls a broom and dustpan from the cabinet and twists his lips upwards. "I was trying to make a joke, but we all know I don't have Seth's sense of humor."

"And thank God for that." For her part, Marissa's nerves at facing another date with Ryan had been eased by the scene she'd stumbled upon. At least if she screwed up at all today, she wouldn't be the only one to have made a mistake with him. And Summer would be there to help her out of any uncomfortable situations, just as Marissa was doing for her now. "Come on, Sum, let's get outside and grab some food before your boyfriend eats it all. Ryan, you'll meet us out there?"

He nods, seeming very intent on sweeping the shards of ceramic into the trash. "Be there in a sec. Oh, and Summer?"

Marissa is already out the door, greeting Sandy on the patio and being presented with a plate overflowing with chips, dips, and salsas. Following her best friend, Summer is halfway to safety when his voice rakes over her name, smooth and sure. She freezes and turns around slowly, praying for self-control to whatever God handles teenage girls and their burning desires for boys who are completely, totally off-limits. "Yes?"

For reasons she can only guess at, his grin flashes lightning-quick at her panicked expression, a reassurance that doesn't go far in slowing her heartbeat. "I agree. With what you said before … about everything being different. It is. But it's not all bad. You know?"

"It … could be worse," she agrees faintly, wondering what in the hell he really means. Is it code for something? Did he feel that spark of heat, too, or is she just imagining things? "I should get outside. I'll, uh, see you in a bit?"

"Yeah. See you." Ryan turns his attention back to cleaning, but he's pretty sure that no amount of soaping and scrubbing dishes is going to wash away the tingling in his fingertips from their brief contact with Summer's small hands. And he doesn't know what that means, but it's definitely different.


	10. The Fireworks Part Two

Hope this was quick enough for anyone who's waiting, it's a little long and unedited, written in an hour, so I hope it's some kind of good! Don't forget to review!

**The Fireworks (Part Two)**

Avoiding Ryan is a challenge for a lot of reasons. Those reasons include A) She's at his house, B) Her social circle has dwindled in the past year and she really only recognizes a few faces apart from him, Marissa, and Seth, and C) Her boyfriend is bound and determined to sucker the four of them into as much group-bonding time as he possibly can.

Still, Summer is determined. After the awkward (read: incredibly hot) moment they'd shared in the kitchen, she doesn't trust herself enough to be near him and not blurt out something horribly embarrassing, like "Hi, I want your body" or "Could I have a burger, oh, yeah, and your babies?"

So she busies herself being Sandy's little helper, running dirty dishes to the sink and plates full of sliced fruits to the tables. She circulates the crowd with trays of appetizers and carefully sidesteps the small patio table Seth, Marissa, and Ryan have taken over. She ignores – or tells herself she's ignoring – the fact that Ryan's cool blue gaze lands on her every few minutes and lingers there.

"Summer," Seth finally calls, when an hour has passed and she's yet to take the seat he's been saving for her. "Put that tray down, everyone's done eating. Come sit with us."

She tries to protest but one glance around tells her he's right. The crowd around the food table has dispersed and most of the guests are lounging by the pool, hands laying idly on their stomachs in the universal _I'm stuffed_ gesture. "Sure," she says with a wan smile, and the chair scrapes against the pavement as she drags it close to him – and farther from Ryan. "You guys having a good time?"

"The best," Marissa answers happily, patting Ryan's hand in emphasis. Summer's seen enough of their breakup and makeup routine to understand that they are in the process of another upswing. "I'm so glad to have a break from my mom and this weather is _gorgeous_."

"We live in Newport," Summer answers, her brows knitting together in confusion over Marissa's newfound exuberance. "When _isn't_ it gorgeous?"

Seth's laughter is warm and familiar in her ear, but it's Ryan's quiet chuckle that tugs her own lips upward. "But the Julie thing is still a valid excuse," Seth points out. "How is the she-devil, anyway?"

"Out shopping for the day." Marissa sends him a kind smile. Seth's been the only one to act one hundred percent normal around her since everything happened – no biting his tongue, no probing looks. It's probably because he has no other setting other than the default humor, but still, it's nice. "She wanted to avoid this little shindig. She made me promise I'd stay inside with the doors locked."

"Just in case Ryan decided to storm the castle?" Seth cracks, laughing out loud as he imagines his friend in a full suit of armor. "Using me, his trusty steed, to distract the wicked witch, no doubt."

Marissa giggles with him, obviously entertaining a similar notion. "What would you do, bore her to death with babbling and bad jokes?"

"Hey." He adopts a wounded look, not half as offended as a normal person would be. "It's worked in the past, okay? Tried and true, baby, tried and true."

They all laugh at that and for a moment, Summer lets herself relax, sink into the moment and appreciate how familiar it all feels. Seth's arm around her and Marissa and Ryan across the table and all of them joking and bantering. It's like old times.

Then she glances down to slip off her sandals and when she looks back up again, Ryan's eyes are on her, practically boring a hole in her head with the intensity of his stare. Her giggle ends with a sharp gasp and her entire body buzzes with a pins-and-needles sensation that's not entirely unpleasant.

Nope. Not just like old times at all. Some things had definitely changed.

XXX

Twilight seems to last forever in Newport, the sky shimmering in a shade of blue as deep as a promise, the first stars sparking up in little clusters of silver. It's Summer's favorite time of night. But right now, the view she has of it is from the window in the Cohen's guest bedroom, where she's locked herself to catch her breath and get her head on straight.

It's not just her imagination. She's almost positive. She's caught him staring at her a record twenty eight times today. The last four times, his gaze didn't waver when it met hers, he didn't glance away or pretend to be doing a casual crowd-scan. That has to mean something.

She's just not sure what. Because as far as she knows – and she's the best friend, so she's definitely in the loop – he and Marissa are still together. Or back together. Or … whatever. They're trying again. Thanks, in large part, to her own damn persistence in the matter of reuniting them.

"Good one, Roberts," she congratulates herself now, shaking her head at how she'd pushed and prodded Marissa into that stupid date. "Real smooth move."

"Summer?" As if she's conjured him, Ryan's voice floats through the wall, accompanied by his fist knocking on the closed door. "You in here?"

Her head nearly snaps off her neck as she swings it around to stare, wide-eyed, at the door. "Uh – yes," she calls out, mentally adding, _Hiding from you_. "What is it?"

"We've been looking all over for you," he responds, and there's a touch of impatience in his voice that is very un-Ryan. "Open the door, please?"

She complies, mostly because it's too high up to jump out the window and any other escape route would involve removing ceiling tiles and crawling through vents. She's petite, sure, but she's claustrophobic, too, and she'd rather not be trapped in an air duct when she could be trapped in a large room with Ryan and a rather comfortable looking bed.

"You're acting strange," Ryan says immediately, the second she's opened the door. Instead of stepping aside so she can join him in the hall, he enters the room and kicks the door shut lightly.

"So are you," she returns, taken aback by his forthrightness. Ryan isn't usually one to initiate a conversation, but then again, he does play the hero very nicely. Marissa and Seth probably elected him to go deal with her. "You keep looking at me."

Ryan hesitates to answer. He can't exactly deny it, his eyes have been drawn back to her time and time again today. He just doesn't know why. "Well, I, uh … I kind of have a favor to ask."

If it's possible for a heart to deflate like a balloon, that's what Summer feels. It just … shrinks inside of her, all the hope she'd barely been allowing herself to feel, and her shoulders slump as she tries for flippancy, "I'm not holding the firecrackers while you guys light them. If I lose a hand, that'd be the end of manicures for me, and I really like that Chinese woman's work."

He gives her the smallest of smiles. "Like Seth will be allowed anywhere near the fireworks. No, I wanted to ask if you would, uh, come with me to visit Kirsten on Saturday."

Summer blinks. She'd been expecting it to be about Marissa or maybe an opinion on what to get Seth for his birthday. "Um. Wow."

"You don't have to," Ryan rushes to assure her. "It's just that, Seth won't even talk about her, much less visit, and I don't think Marissa's really up to it, so I just … I thought you and I could go."

"Wow," she says again and maybe it's silly, but she's touched. Ryan doesn't really pour on the flattery, but knowing that he thinks she can handle that trip is probably the best compliment she's ever gotten. "Of course I'll go with you, Ryan. I'd love to."

He's supposed to leave it at that, he knows. But his feet lurch in the wrong direction and there's suddenly no space between them and she has this look in her eyes like she's either absolutely petrified or incredibly grateful for his unexpected proximity.

Summer's sure she's either dreaming or dying, because no way would Ryan freaking Atwood be pressed up against her like this in any other scenario. Ever. He is her best friend's boyfriend, her boyfriend's best friend, and it's wrong, wrong, wrong. And she needs to take a deep breath, count to three, and step back.

Or stretch onto her tiptoes, wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him like her live depends on it. Which it might. So, common sense be damned, she does, molding her body to his, locking limbs and lips together. Ryan seems stunned for an instant, as if he hasn't been waiting for this to happen all day, but recovers admirably, bringing his hands to her hair and then dragging them back down her body to her waist.

A moan tears out of Summer's throat as her own hands reciprocate, traveling up his back to trace his shoulders and then trail down his spine, fingernails dragging lightly to elicit a hiss. Without breaking contact, Ryan begins to move her backwards, steering them both towards the bed that looks like it's been waiting for just this occasion.

"Ryan!" Seth's voice calls, making them both gasp and jump apart seconds before he turns into the room. "Summer? God, what have you guys been _doing_?"

Summer nearly chokes. "Uh, just, uh, talking about Marissa. And you know, everything. She seems better, don't you think?"

"I guess," Seth replies, obviously not very invested in the matter. "Let's hurry up and get back downstairs, okay, the fireworks are gonna start soon."

Summer chances a glance back at Ryan as Seth takes her hand and leads her down the stairs and bites back a loud sigh. She doesn't think her body can handle anymore fireworks today.


	11. The Driving Force

**The Driving Force**

Ryan seriously considers canceling. There are a dozen excuses he could use: a sudden illness, a forgotten engagement, restrictions on the clinic's visiting hours. Unfortunately, there's not a dishonest bone in his body and he can't deny that he wants to see Summer again.

Still, he approaches the Roberts house with caution. Summer hasn't shown her face at the Cohen household since the cookout, which means it's been nearly a week and they haven't discussed what happened. She might not even remember agreeing to accompany him. Or worse, what if she remembers and is desperately hoping for him to forget?

Ryan freezes on the porch, the thought gluing him to his spot too late, as his finger has already pressed the bell. Dr. Roberts' gaze is sharp as he observes, "You're not Seth."

"Ah, no." There's the root of all his problems, Ryan thinks. He's not Seth. He doesn't come from a loving family with a good reputation and a large trust fund to fall back on. He has nothing to offer. "Er – is Summer home? We have a – uh, we made, uh –"

Luckily, either Dr. Roberts remembers the discomfort of being seventeen and under the scrutiny of a girl's father or he's late for an appointment, because he steps back to allow Ryan entry and says, "She's in her room. You can go on up."

Ryan has never gained access to a girl's bedroom so quickly. There's a bounce in his step for a moment until he realizes why it was so easy – he is not a threat. He is the loyal friend of the boyfriend, who has no chance and would never even dream of seducing the lovely daughter.

"Ryan!" The lovely daughter looks panicked at the moment, jumping off her bed and tugging anxiously at the sleeves of her sweatshirt. "What're you doing here?"

She _had _forgotten. Ryan shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how to recover from his obvious mistake. "It's, uh, Saturday," he says, hating how dumb he sounds. "We were … well, it's no big deal. We were supposed to visit Kirsten."

"I know," Summer says, in a way that makes him believe she's not lying or covering up her absentmindedness. "I just … well, I wasn't sure if you'd come." She laughs a little, sounding as nervous as he feels. "Let me just throw on some decent clothes."

"Are you sure?" He lingers in the doorway, trying his best to avoid the lacy black bra that hangs from the knob of her closet. "You don't have to come, if you have other plans or something, you know."

"No, I want to," she's quick to assure him, her words coming out all in a rush. She, too, is aware of the conspicuous lingerie and is dying a slow death of acute embarrassment. "I mean, if you want me there."

"I want you." Ryan realizes immediately how that might sound and releases a half-chuckle, half-groan, sliding his palm over his face. "I mean, I'd like the company. I'll, uh, just wait here. Not right here. In the hall. While you change."

"Five minutes," Summer promises, already easing the door shut.

He spends that time studying the wallpaper's pattern, trying to burn from his mind the image of the bra, of how Summer might look wearing it. It's frustrating how one glimpse is making his body go into overdrive. Ryan's not twelve, he's unhooked a few bras in his time. He's seen women's bodies; has traced their curves and tasted their skin. He's not half as tongue-tied and inexperienced as Summer makes him feel.

He needs to pull himself together, he decides. No more stuttering and suffering through awkward pauses, not for Ryan Atwood. He's smoother than that. Besides, he doesn't have to impress Summer. She's attached and he's attached and they are Just Friends. Capital letters and all.

Then the door swings open, revealing Summer in a knee-length khaki skirt and an olive green tank top. It's a casual outfit with neutral tones and respectable cuts, but there's a hint of sexuality in the bare shoulders, the scoop neck, the dangling black beads of the necklace she threads through her fingers. She's had it picked out since Thursday, lying in wait at the back of her closet in case he really does show up.

"Okay," Summer declares, her voice bright and cheery even though her throat has just constricted at the sight of him drinking her in. Ryan's eyes … it's like being swallowed by a sea, she thinks, and tries to shake away the effect his stare has on her. "Ready."

XXX

It's a short drive, thank God, because it turns out Summer's skirt is only a decent length when she's standing upright. Once she's taken her place in the passenger seat, it rides up, revealing an extra three inches of tanned, toned leg that makes Ryan rethink keeping his eyes on the road. Worse, she can't seem to sit still – she fiddles with the radio dials, that necklace, her hair, and he wants those fingers somewhere else entirely.

For her part, Summer tries valiantly to make small talk, but Ryan's answers are all staccato one-word statements, like miniature gunshots. Each time he shoots down her attempts, it's like a hole is pierced in her lungs, making it harder to draw in breath. The air inside the car gets so uncomfortable that she's forced to roll down the window, damning the inevitable tangles and frizz. It's obvious he doesn't care how perfect her hair is, anyway, and she can't really expect him to.

"Here we are," he finally announces, shifting into park and breathing a sigh of relief. Summer slides out of the car and Ryan stays put, trying to redirect his focus to the matter at hand. He is going to visit the woman he considers a mother, and she is very sick, and he needs to concentrate on her, not …

"Hey." Summer, having gone around to his side of the SUV, now pokes her head through the window, eyes narrowed in concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he lies, his skin tingling at her sudden closeness. "Just … collecting my thoughts."

"You sure you want to do this?" Frowning, Summer lays her hand lightly on his shoulder. It's meant to be a comforting gesture, but all it does is quicken his already racing heartbeat. "No one said you had to, you know."

"No, I do." That much, Ryan is sure of. Kirsten has given him so much, a life he never could have dreamed of, a life she could have withheld and had every right to. She took a chance on him. He owes her everything. "I need to see her. She's been … she's …"

"She's your mom," Summer supplies. It sounds so simple coming from her lips and Ryan can't help wondering why whenever he's at a loss for words, Summer has the perfect ones at the ready. "I get it."

He thinks that she doesn't, that she couldn't possibly, and then he looks at her and knows that she's telling the truth. She's curving her mouth upwards, offering him a smile to calm his nerves, but her teeth catch and chew the bottom lip. Her eyes are soft and kind, but there's a worry swirling in their depths that he hadn't noticed before.

"I'm sorry," he says, suddenly understanding that he's been selfish. "I forgot, I didn't realize … you love her, too."

Summer shrugs. It's true that he's not the only one Kirsten has acted as a surrogate mother for. One of the biggest perks of her relationship with Seth has been the package deal of a ready-made family: takeout dinners that taste better than anything her maid ever serves and sage advice from the kind of adults she's previously only seen on after schools specials.

"She's easy to love," she replies, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. She'd been so intent on Ryan's obvious nerves throughout the ride that she hadn't even thought this trip could be hard on her. "Even with … everything she's going through. She's still more of a mother than I've ever had."

Ryan nods. "Me, too."

They sit in the parking lot for a few minutes, reveling at this new connection. Neither of them had ever considered the fact that they might be more alike than they thought. Ryan, born in Chino and raised to fight for everything, and Summer, born with a silver spoon in her mouth and raised to never have to ask for anything.

But they both knew what it was like to be abandoned by the one woman in the world who was supposed to protect you. They'd both lost their innocence too early and learned to hide the scars. And they both knew what it was like to want something they couldn't have.

"Come on," Summer says, dragging her hand down his arm until her fingers tangle with his. She gives his hand a gentle tug. "We've come this far. We'd better get in there before visiting hours end."

Ryan acquiesces with a grunt, stepping out of the car and squaring his shoulders. He looks like he's preparing for a battle, his jaw clenched, his grip tense and a little tighter than necessary. Without thinking about it, Summer pops onto her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Let's do this," she directs him, very seriously, and leads the way.

Following along behind her, his hand still clasped around hers, Ryan hates himself for wishing she wasn't just talking about visiting Kirsten.


	12. The Visitation Rights

**The Visitation Rights**

Kirsten looks surprisingly unchanged by her recent ordeal. She's dressed in her own clothes, looking casual yet classy; her hair a silky frame for her glowing face. Even the hug she enfolds him in is familiar – warm and comforting, the motherly embrace he'd never experienced until moving to Newport.

"Ryan, it's so _good_ to see you," Kirsten sighs, her smile another dose of normalcy despite the fact they're in the visiting room of a rehab clinic. "Come on, sit down, tell me everything. How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay," he says, taking the seat she directs him to. "How are you doing? This place, is it … helping you?"

"Oh, Ryan," she says, closing her eyes. "I'm so sorry for everything I did … what I said to you that day, during the intervention. It was awful and very, very unfair. You know how much having you as a part of my family means to me."

He shakes his head, silencing her. "No, Kirsten, please. It doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're getting better. I miss you. We all miss you."

Kirsten leans forward to lay a hand on his knee. "How _are_ my boys doing?"

"We're … coping," Ryan decides. He hesitates. "Seth wanted to come today, but, uh, something came up."

Her smile remains, but her eyes turn a little sad. "You're not a very good liar, Ryan – and I thank God for that, trust me. But I can understand why Seth is keeping me at a distance right now. It's probably for the best." She shrugs. "I wouldn't want him to see me here."

"You look healthy," Ryan protests. "You look like yourself again."

"I'm getting there," she answers. Then she blinks and shakes herself. "But let's talk about you. Really, honey, how are you doing with everything? I'm so sorry I missed the funeral for Trey. I know how hard that must have been for you."

Ryan thinks back. Strange how far away it all seems now, the great, overwhelming tragedy his life had been just a few weeks ago. He still misses Trey, that's a pain he doesn't think will ever completely ease, but his life seems to have settled down again. He's at home with the Cohens, dating Marissa … and, of course, kissing his brother's girlfriend senseless while both their significant others wait downstairs.

"It's been crazy," he finally replies. "But I'm getting through it. Trey was … Trey was a lot of things. He was my brother. But he was a lot more. I guess I just, I just have to accept that."

Kirsten sits back in her seat, a little awed. "Wow," she says, sounding impressed. "Ryan, that's … the most I've ever heard you say. You sound really _good_. There's something … different about you."

He shrugs, embarrassed, and glances at the door that Summer waits beyond. "I don't know what you mean."

She cocks her head to the side, a smile playing at her lips. "You're happy," she accuses. "Ryan … it's really good to see you happy."

"Same to you." He smiles. "But I should get going. Summer's waiting and I should get her home."

"Summer came with you?" Kirsten takes a minute to process this turn of events. "Actually, Ryan, it would be good to see her. Would you mind if we had a quick visit?"

He's not surprised, considering Summer can act as another link to Seth. "Sure," he acquiesces easily, sliding out his chair. "I'll send her in."

A few minutes pass and Summer appears – first just her head, peering cautiously around the door, then the rest of her as Kirsten gestures for her to take a seat. "Hi," she says tentatively. "Um, how are you?"

Kirsten smiles, hoping to put the girl more at ease. "I'm fine, Summer. How are you doing?"

"I'm … okay," Summer responds, avoiding the older woman's eyes. She usually doesn't _do_ awkward, but she has no idea of the protocol involved in visiting a woman who acts as mother for _both_ boys you've kissed in the past forty eight hours. "Ryan thinks you'll be home soon."

"I should be." She should also, Kirsten thinks, get to the point. "Listen, Summer, I asked to speak with you privately because I wanted to thank you. For being there for my boys these past weeks. Sandy tells me you've all but moved in with us. He also tells me you're about the only one Ryan talked to in the beginning."

Summer flushes. "He talked to Sandy and Seth more than me, I bet," she rushes to contradict. "I was just there … with Seth, obviously. So we hunt out. But we didn't, like, hang out, hang out. We just talked, sometimes."

"Right." Kirsten waits a beat, to be sure Summer's rambling has come to an end. "I see. Still, I'm grateful to you. I'm glad you were around to help Ryan through it. That boy has been through, well, a lot. As you know."

She studies Summer closely for another minutes, then sits back, satisfied. "Anyway … I'm glad he has you."

XXX

"Kirsten _know_," Summer bursts out the second she and Ryan are back in the car and heading down the highway.

Ryan's eyebrows furor. "Knows what?"

She rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Knows about _us_, Ryan!"

It's the first time either of them have acknowledged what happened between them on the Fourth. For a long moment, they're both stunned into silence by the memory.

"About that, Summer …" Ryan has never been more happy to be behind the wheel of a moving vehicle and have a flat, gray surface to focus on. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

Summer is taken aback, not to mention severely disappointed. Of all the ways she's imagined them dealing with The Kiss – and, okay, she's thought about it a few times, she's _human_, isn't she? – she's never pictured a knee-jerk apology from Ryan and an awkward silence to boot.

"Well, I mean, you obviously weren't thinking at all." Her lips are moving, but even she has no idea what she's saying. "It was a mistake. A careless … mistake."

She's so busy trying to cover her own disappointment that she doesn't notice the similar emotion that flashes through Ryan's eyes when he hears the M word. "I mean, really, you're … you. And I'm me. We're, like, worlds apart," she continues, channeling the shallow girl she'd once been and trying to convince herself nothing's changed. "And I'm totally committed to Cohen."

"And I'm with Marissa," Ryan counters. "It was a one time thing."

"Definitely." Summer reclines in her seat and rests her feet on the dash. It's a relaxed-looking pose, chosen to create the illusion that her heart isn't breaking into a thousand pieces. "Won't happen again."

Ryan nods, then glances over at the long line of bare leg she's propped on top of his glove compartment. He swallows, hard, and clears his throat before saying, "We're gonna need some ground rules."

Summer watches his Adam's apple work and bites her lip. "Agreed."

He takes a minute to consider. "Okay, well, the obvious: no alone time."

Summer affirms this with a nod, then adds, "And no wife beaters for you."

Ryan raises an eyebrow. "Okay, then no short skirts for you."

"But, sir," she protests in a fake Southern accent, fanning herself with one hand, "What ever will I _wear_?"

He chuckles – a rare Ryan laugh, short and genuine – and shakes his head. "This is ridiculous," he points out as he pulls into her driveway and turns to face her. "We're adults, aren't we? We don't need rules to control ourselves."

"You're probably right," she laughs and sticks out her hand. "Okay, from here on out, we act our age and keep our hands to ourselves. Deal?"

"Deal." He reaches out to shake on it, but draws back as their fingers graze and a jolt of electricity skims up his spine. Summer's sharp intake of breath lets him know he's not the only one who felt it.

They both stare down at their traitorous, almost-touching hands, then Ryan closes his around the gearshift instead and Summer uses hers to open the car door. "No physical contact," she proposes, hopping out and turning back to get his reaction.

He steels himself, then nods. "Agreed."


	13. The Broken and The Slightly Bent

**The Broken and The Slightly Bent**

Summer manages to stick to her guns and avoid Ryan for a record two hours before her cell phone vibrates and the Cohen number dances across the screen. Telling herself she's hoping to hear Seth's voice, she picks up on the third ring and immediately begins pacing her bedroom.

"It's me." Ryan's voice is low and gravelly in her ear, making Summer stop in her tracks. "Can you come over?"

Summer's head swims with visions of what that request could lead to, but she shakes herself out of the Harlequin fantasy and dredges up an offended scoff. "Is this a booty call, Chino? 'Cause I am _far_ too classy to be answering a booty call at four o'clock in the afternoon."

He doesn't seem to register her friendly, albeit forced, tone. "Seth and I kind of got into it. He could probably use you right about now."

Summer resumes her pacing and tacks on an attack of nail biting. "You got _into_ it?" she repeats, not sure she even wants to ask the next question. "What, exactly, does that mean?"

"We fought," Ryan says simply and she rolls her eyes. Of course that's all there is to it. In Ryan's world, two words are as good as an entire explanation for why he and her extremely non-threatening boyfriend would ever have come to blows.

"Oh, you fought?" Summer throws back at him. "How'd that work out? Considering the only time Seth's ever thrown a punch is in a video game and fistfights just happen to be a favorite hobby of yours."

His sigh is pained enough that she almost regrets her sharp tone. "Summer, I didn't hit him, okay? He got made when he found out I'd visited Kirsten. I think he just felt guilty that he didn't go, but it was a bad scene. He actually threw a punch."

"Oh, Lord." Summer sighs, sitting down on the edge of her bed and bracing herself for the worst. "How bad is it?"

"He might have a broken hand," Ryan says, quickly and under his breath, as if he's a child confessing a crime to his mother.

"How'd he break his hand?" Summer frowns. "I mean, contrary to popular opinion, Ryan, you're not made of steel."

"I ducked and he hit the wall instead," he explains. "And I've punched a few walls in my time. That one looked … particularly hard."

At that, Summer lets herself fall backward on the bed, her head landing amidst her collection of throw pillows. "You've gotta be kidding me," she mumbles.

"I wish I was." Ryan hesitates. "I'm really sorry, Summer. I just thought you should know. Like I said, he might need you right now."

She's still processing those words when the dial tone sounds in her ears. Taken aback, Summer holds the phone away and stares at it, wondering why Ryan never seems to be the one to need anyone or anything.

XXX

Twenty minutes later, she's been let into the Cohen house by an obviously distracted Sandy and is making her way to Seth's room. Scanning the hours for a sign of Ryan's presence, her eyes fall on an indent in the wall – definitely in the shape of a fist – and she clucks her tongue.

"Cohen," she greets her boyfriend, not bothering to knock before swinging the door open. "Something you want to talk about?"

He looks up from the hand he's cradling in a towel full of ice. "Ryan called you?"

"He mentioned something about you and a wall." Offering up a smile, she steps further into the room. "I heard the wall did some damage."

Seth shakes his head angrily, not responding to her attempt at light-heartedness. "You know, for someone so antisocial, he's certainly done a lot of talking today to people in my life about things that don't concern him."

"Cohen." Summer's not exactly an expert on psychology, but she's beginning to understand misplaced emotions. "Who are you _really_ mad at?"

He grimaces. "Probably _not_ Ryan."

"So the trying to punch him in the face thing, that was just … you horsing around?" she guesses, taking a seat next to him so she can slide an arm around his shoulders.

"The joke's on me, then," he admits, gesturing to his swollen knuckles. "If this is what it's like to be a fighter, then, boy, am I glad I'm a lover. Wanna kiss it and make it better?"

Summer laughs and presses a light kiss to his wound. "Poor baby. So what happened, Cohen? Why'd you Hulk out on his ass?"

Seth smiles at her comic book reference, just as she'd intended. "I just lost it, Sum. I was bugging him about visiting my mom and he was just looking at me like, of _course_ he visited her, how could I not? And I just ... couldn't take it."

"You know, Seth." She hesitates, then pushes on. "If you wanted to go see her, I'd go with you. She'd probably love it."

He grimaces and shakes his head. "I don't think so. Not yet. But thank you." They're both quiet for a minute, lost in their own thoughts, and then Seth sighs. "You know, I don't think I'm gonna be the best company right now. According to my How To Be A Badass guideline, I still have another few hours of brooding to do before I revert back my happy go-lucky self. I'll call you later?"

"Sounds good." Standing, Summer bends to kiss his forehead. "Hey, we should all go out this weekend. There's no better way to get over a tiff than, oh, say, a night at The Bait Shop with my dad's credit card buying?"

Seth agrees and, with one last hug, Summer leaves him to his wallowing. She's in the driveway, car keys in hand, when she glances over at the pool house and catches a glimpse of Ryan's form in the window. He's swinging away at his punching bag like the thing has actually done something to piss him off, his skin gleaming with sweat and his jaw clenched.

It's not the brightest idea she's ever had, but it's not like she can just turn her back and walk away from him when he's obviously upset. That just wouldn't be right. Or so she tells herself as she tosses her keys back in her purse and changes direction.

"Hey." She says it softly, but he freezes almost before the word is out of her mouth, as if he's been expecting her. "You okay?"

"Fine," he says curtly. "How's Seth?"

"Also fine." She doesn't think about it, doesn't plan to, but her feet propel her forward of their own accord until she's standing toe to toe with him. "Ryan. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"It just …" His eyes cut away, then back to her. His breathing is still heavy from the God-knows-how-many rounds he just went with the punching bag. "Sucked."

Now she's nothing but focused as she slowly, almost cautiously, brings her arms up to wrap loosely around his neck. When he doesn't flinch or pull away, she steps closer, settling her head into the crook of his shoulder. Eyes closed, she listens to his heartbeat start to slow, literally _feels_ him relax into the embrace.

Ryan has never been the one to receive comfort. It has always been his role, for as long as he can remember, to be the protector. He treated his mother's cuts and made her boyfriends regret giving them to her; he followed Trey and made sure to clean up the older boy's messes. Even in Newport, he'd followed the same pattern: keep Seth's bullies at bay, hold Marissa in his arms as she comes apart once a week, take the punches no one else can seem to take.

It's a new feeling, this being cared for. Summer's touch, light as it is, seems to reach through all his grief and frustration and anchor him firmly in a world where things don't always hurt so much. He _likes_ the world her arms and fingers and hair and lips promise. He thinks he's like to live there.

"This is breaking the no physical contact rule," he mutters, but his arms are moving, too, enveloping her in what she thinks could be the best hug she's ever experienced.

"Nah, not breaking," she replies, keeping her eyes closed in the hopes of making the moment last forever. "Just bending. Slightly."

Because he feels the closest he's ever come to peaceful, Ryan accepts her response and keeps his arms around her for a long time.


	14. The Hook, Line, and Sinker

-1**The Hook, Line, and Sinker**

Comforting Ryan in the poolhouse takes on the qualities of an out-of-body experience over the next few days. Summer is sure it happened - her memory is far too vivid to be a dream - but she doesn't see or hear from him again and she starts to believe that maybe it _was _all just a product of her overexcited imagination. Either way, she completely forgets about her suggestion for a group get-together over the weekend.

Unfortunately, Seth isn't as easily distracted - nor is he deterred by her claim of not feeling well. "It'll be fun," he promises, his grin so hopeful that she can't bear to say no. "Just the thing to make you feel better."

Fun. She resists - barely - the urge to roll her eyes. If his idea of fun is slowly inserting red-hot iron rods into his eyes, then, yeah it'll be a blast. Excuse her if she'd rather do anything else than sit and watch Ryan and Marissa make googly eyes while she sits there and tries not to think about how recently she's been in his arms.

Despite her objections, come Saturday night Summer finds herself pushing her way through the usual crowd at the Bait Shop, counting down the minutes until she can go home again. Her feet hurt - her heels were brand new and hadn't been broken in, but she'd wanted to look cute for reasons she refused to examine closely. Her head hurts - whoever was in charge of booking bands here had either terrible taste in music or a twisted sense of humor. And she's already feeling sick to her stomach from the way Marissa clings to Ryan's hand like a drowning woman would cling to a life preserver.

At the booth, she slides in next to Seth exactly as she is supposed to, then grimaces as Ryan plays the gentlemen and lets Marissa go first, meaning that he winds up directly across from her. Summer automatically sits up straighter and grabs a menu to study.

"Aren't you just going to get your usual?" Seth asks, noticing the attention she's giving to the list of items that haven't changed since 1985. "I thought you hated everything else they have here."

"I might like something different," she replies without thinking, and flushes a deep red as her own words sink in. Across the table, Ryan's eyes are on her, serious and unreadable as ever. "On second thought," she says, deliberately setting the menu down, "I think I'll stick to what I know."

Ryan's eyes drop to the Formica surface and Summer feels like kicking herself. Not only is she acting just as guilty as she feels, but she's saying all the wrong things. Now Seth is satisfied but Ryan looks hurt, which isn't really fair. It's not his fault that everything she says or does seems to come back to her being madly in love with him.

The waitress comes and goes, filling in the awkward silence with polite chatter while she takes their orders and making it all the more pronounced when she leaves. Ryan bites back a sigh and shifts uncomfortably, trying to stretch out his legs without nudging Summer's feet. He doesn't know why he even agreed to this torturous trip.

Actually, that's not true. It was a combination of Seth's nagging and an unhealthy desire to see Summer again that convinced him. But now that he's here, he's sure that almost anything else would've been a better idea. He's sitting so close to Marissa that their thighs are brushing and all he wants is to reach out and touch Summer - just lay a hand on her shoulder, brush her hair back from her face. She looks nervous.

As if she knows what he's thinking, Summer jumps up from the table abruptly. "Bathroom," she says by way of explanation, and looks at her best friend. "Marissa?"

Marissa is peering well past Summer, trying to get a better look at the stage. "No, thanks, I wanna hear the band. I've heard they're good."

Seth follows her gaze and nods enthusiastically. "Hey, I've heard of them, too. They're supposed to be great live. Have you ..."

Neither of them notice Summer hurrying away from the table, or the way Ryan watches her until she's been swallowed up by the crowd. When she returns a few minutes later, she finds him alone, stirring the straw in his Coke and watching the ice swirl.

"Where is everyone?" Summer asks, glancing around cautiously, as if she's wary they're playing some kind of trick on her.

"They wanted to get a closer look at the band." Ryan gestures in the direction of the stage, still avoiding her gaze.

Summer wrinkles her nose. "Why? They suck."

He laughs at that - a loud, genuine laugh that surprises them both. "They really do," he agrees, wondering - not for the first time - what it is that keeps Summer and Seth together. They have nothing in common other than having best friends who are dating. But, for that matter, what keeps him and Marissa together? He barely recognizes her anymore, barely recognizes himself when he's with her. The only thing the four of them share is the past.

Summer, who is trying hard not to be thinking of the same thing, shakes her head as she slides back into the booth. "So this is fun, right? The four of us, hanging out?"

"Just like old times," Ryan confirms, but his tone is just as forced as hers and after a long moment, they both burst into laughter.

"Here you go," the waitress interrupts cheerfully, setting down their plates. She glances at Ryan, then gives Summer a wink, as if to say _Well done!_ "You two lovebirds enjoy, now."

That comment sobers them up pretty quickly. A quiet minute passes, then two, with both of them staring at their plates and not eating a bite, and then Summer cracks.

"We're being stupid," she announces, setting down the fork she hasn't even used. "I mean, so what if she thought we were together? It's an easy mistake to make, you know? Any two people sitting across from each other in a restaurant automatically look like they're on a date. No big deal."

This doesn't even come close to breaking the tension, as she'd intended it to. Instead, the air between them seems to thicken, clogged with both the excuse she's given and all the words she hasn't said. "You're right," Ryan says after a long pause, clearing his throat and picking up his fork. "No big deal."

Summer sits back in the booth, defeated. Her head actually hurts from how tense she feels. Her heart feels like it's been put into a blender and set on 'high'. She watches him for a second, shoveling food into his mouth and avoiding her eyes, and then she pushes her own plate aside and stands up.

"Summer," Ryan calls after her, but she can't stop, because if she stops there is a very good chance she could cry, and Summer Roberts doesn't cry. "Summer, hold up a minute."

She makes it all the way out of the Bait Shop, the night air making her shiver, before he grabs her arm and whirls her around to face him. "What are you doing?" he demands, concerned with how distraught she looks. "What's _wrong_?"

"Nothing!" She wrenches her arm away, trying to put more distance between them. "God. It's just ... why is everything so _strange_ lately? It's like ever since Trey got shot, nothing's been _normal _and I just don't even know what to do with myself. I cant talk to Marissa, or Seth, or even you now. Since when are we awkward around each other, you know? This whole summer is just ... too much."

Ryan has gone silent at the mention of his brother's name, and Summer instantly regrets her freak-out. "Oh, God, I'm sorry," she rushes to backtrack, wringing her hands so as not to touch him. "I shouldn't have brought that up, about Trey, it was stupid of me. I ..."

"No, Summer, it's fine," Ryan interrupts, placing one hand on each of her shoulders to steady her. "I wasn't thinking about Trey. I was just ... I was thinking about how I agree with you."

"You do?" She frowns. "About what?"

"Everything," he says earnestly. He's still holding her, his fingers warm on her skin. "Almost everything. I can't talk to Marissa and Seth either. I don't know where I fit in after ... after everything. Except."

He stops talking and she's pretty sure her heart stops beating. "Except what?"

"Except when I'm with you." This time, her shiver isn't caused by the breeze. "I don't feel awkward or on edge or like I'm playing a part. It's not fake or forced or anything. I'm just ... me. With you."

Summer waits. When she doesn't wake up alone in her bed and no one bursts out of the shadows with a video camera shouting _Gotcha!_, she takes a deep breath and lets her forehead come close enough to his to touch. "I really, really wish that we had been on a date in there," she confesses.

The ghost of a smile plays across his lips. "Well, hey, any two people standing together outside of a club automatically look like they're on a date, right?"

Summer laughs, then glances over her shoulder. "We should probably get back inside before they realize we're gone."

"Wait." He spins her back as she starts to pull away, cupping her face in his hands. "Can I see you tomorrow? Just us?"

She knows what her reaction should be - to pull back, to let go, to shake her head and say _No, impossible, wrong, wrong, wrong_. She can tell he's bracing himself for a similar reality slap. But she doesn't want to be another person who disappoints him. She has been there for him before when he needed someone and she wants to keep being that person for as long as she can.

"Yes," she decides, a thrill going up her spine at even the idea of it. "Tomorrow. Just us."


	15. The Escape Artists

-1**The Escape Artists**

At the end of the night, Ryan drives them all home. Marissa rolls her window down so the wind rushes in and everyone wonders if it's a passive-aggressive way of drowning out Seth. He doesn't seem to notice, only turns the radio and chatters louder about how great everything is going.

Ryan risks quick glances at Summer in the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of her temple, the arch of her brows, sometimes her gaze as she slides her eyes away from the window she's staring out. The streetlights that shine into the car make her skin gleam like pale marble and he doesn't like how far away she is.

Still, he's selfish, and he takes the back roads home, adding minutes to the trip just so he can continue to watch her reflection. At one point, she tucks a chunk of hair behind her ears and sighs - just a tiny exhale, barely noticeable - and he's overcome with the urge to feel her breath on his skin again.

"Ryan, man, I feel like I'm the star of Driving Miss Daisy," Seth complains, breaking off from his cheerful recap of the sunshine-and-roses version of the night they've all just shared. "I know you're a BAMF and all, but Summer here has curfew. Wanna put the pedal to the medal, buddy?"

"Sorry, sorry," Ryan mumbles, pressing down on the accelerator. Summer catches his eye in the mirror again, deliberately this time, and offers up an apologetic half-smile. He rolls his eyes in return and she fakes a yawn to cover up her giggle.

When they reach the end of her driveway, Seth holds the car door open for her and she doesn't hesitate to grab the hand he offers as she hops out. Ryan looks away from the casual, couple-y move, focusing instead on the path his headlights cut in the darkness. He hears a few low murmurs, the chaste smack of a tongue-free goodnight kiss, and a little of the tension in his shoulders seeps out.

"You've been quiet tonight," Marissa observes. It's not exactly an accusation, but there's trembling at the edge of her tone, a questioning lilt. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's ..." Unwittingly, his mind flashes back to his conversation with Summer earlier in the night. _Why is everything so strange lately?_ "Everything's fine."

She doesn't look at him, but her fingers find his gripping the gearshift and she squeezes gently. "Are you sure? You seem kind of out of it."

"I'm sure." He turns his palm over to return the pressure and it feels like a betrayal, although he's not sure of who. "I'm just tired. Don't worry. Everything's great."

Seth and Summer finish their good-byes and Seth jumps back in the car, saving Ryan from any more of an interrogation. His lie hangs in the air between him and Marissa, more tangible than anything else they've exchanged lately, and he pushes down on the gas the entire way home.

XXX

"Dude, you know what I think we need?" Seth wanders into Ryan's room the next night, a comic book in one hand and a bowl of cereal in the other. "A guy's night. What do you say? We took the ball and chains out last night, how's about we stay in and celebrate our manliness? Some video games, some takeout ... you in?"

Ryan grits his teeth at the closet full of button-downs he's considering. Seth Cohen has many admirable qualities, but his timing isn't among them. Of course he would choose today of all days - or rather, tonight of all nights - to ask for some bonding time. Ryan is preparing to meet his girlfriend behind his back, and he wants to order a pizza together.

Like he doesn't feel guilty enough as it is. He can hardly believe that he is showering, shaving, brushing his teeth - all in preparation of impressing someone else's girlfriend. All day, he's felt a mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirling in his stomach, and he can't shake the notion that he is being selfish.

"Ryan" Seth whistles, waves a hand back and forth in front of his face. "Earth to Ryan. Are you brooding?"

"No, I'm just ... just thinking," he says, pushing Seth's hand away. "Sorry, man, but I have to take a rain check on the guy's night. I've got ... plans."

"_Oh_." Seth nods his understanding. "It's date night, I get it."

Ryan's own head snaps up so fast he thinks he hears a crack. "What?"

"You and Marissa are doing the couple thing." Seth gestures by waggling his fingers, as if the "couple thing" concept is just beyond him. "That's cool. Summer always wants me to take her out, but I can usually talk her into settling for a movie night. Who would've thought, of the two of them, that Marissa would be more high maintenance, huh?"

"Yeah, who would've thought?" Ryan repeats absently, then shakes himself out of it. If Seth wants to assume he has plans with Marissa (not exactly a crazy conclusion to jump to), he'll let him. "Sorry, buddy, I've got to get going. Tomorrow, though, we'll hang out."

"It's cool," Seth calls out, his voice trailing him as he makes his getaway. "Hoes before bros, I see how it is. I'll just ... hang out with my other friends tonight. I'll just go call 'em up. See how they're doing."

Ryan squares his shoulders against the guilt that is nipping at his back and quickens his pace.

XXX

"What do you think?" Summer holds up two different shirts, one a deep red v-neck, the other an emerald top with bell sleeves. "Sophisticated student or boho chic?"

Marissa tilts her head, considering both. "What are you getting ready for again?"

Summer shrugs. "Just ... going out with Cohen," she lies, turning her attention to perusing more clothing options. "Nothing fancy, I just ... want to look nice."

"Aw." Marissa smiles and taps the boho chic option. "You guys are so cute."

Summer hesitates, then gathers her resolve. "Coop, do you think ... do you think you love Ryan?"

Marissa is oddly quiet. After a minute, Summer turns around to make sure her friend is still there. She is, sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands clasped in her lap, studying the carpet pattern intently. "Coop?" Summer prompts, taking a step towards her. "Earth to Coop ...?"

"Sorry." The blonde shakes her head, her hair fluffing out and falling back into place perfectly. "I was just thinking. I don't ... I'm not sure, really, about Ryan."

"Whoa." Relief swamps Summer's small body, followed closely by an intense wave of guilt for the self-centered reaction. "Coop, that's kind of a big development. Why is it the first I've heard about it?"

"I don't know." She looks a little bit helpless, but Summer doesn't move any closer. She's afraid of giving herself away with the enthusiasm that would be in her hug. "I really don't. I mean, we've just never been able to keep it together, you know? And we're trying now, but it feels ... different. _Everything _feels different since ... you know ... Trey."

Summer nods. "I know what you mean. Sometimes, I think the same thing about me and Seth."

"Summer." Marissa looks aghast. "He _worships_ you."

"I know, I know." It's strange, to be searching for the perfect outfit and gossiping about boys with her best friend again. There is still so much between them that is going unsaid. "But it gets so ... smothering, you know? I feel like I have to be this perfect girlfriend all the time and that's so not _me_. I want to be able to ... to have a bad hair day and snort when I laugh and not be worried that I'm ruining my boyfriend's perception of me."

She can be like that with Ryan, Summer adds silently, wishing she had the guts to say it aloud. He has no expectations of her, no decade of longing under his belt. That's why his desire to be with her is so powerful - he wants her for who she is right now, at this instant, and Seth wants the little girl who wrote a poem in third grade.

"Well." Marissa shrugs, then glances at the clock and starts to gather her belongings. "I don't know, I think I'd rather be smothered than held at arm's length. Ryan acts like I'm broken glass now. It's just ..."

"Not the same," Summer finishes. "Trust me. I understand."

Marissa leans in to hug her. "I know you do. Thank God we have each other, right? I've gotta get going, let you primp in peace. But call me later, okay? And have fun on your date."

_It's _your_ date,_ Summer wants to tell her. _It's your boyfriend and all the feelings you want him to have. And I'm taking that from you._

But, of course, she doesn't say that. She just bids Marissa good-bye, promises to call, then waits anxiously at the window for another car to pull into the drive. Ten minutes later, at nine o'clock on the dot, headlights appear in the darkness and her face lights up in response.

Rushing down the stairs (how will she explain to her dad that Ryan is picking her up on a Saturday night and Seth is nowhere to be found?), Summer swings the door opens just before his finger hits the bell and they both freeze.

She can't believe how excited she is to see someone she saw just yesterday, can't remember the last time butterflies fluttered in her stomach like this. Ryan, for his part, can't form words. She's flushed from her dash, eyes sparkling like something magic, and he has the brief thought of _How did I get so lucky?_ before he remembers that she is not actually his to lay claim to.

"Hi," Summer says breathlessly, smiling up at him.

That's all it takes, and he is grinning back at her, slow and sure. "Hi."


	16. The Dinner and The Showstopper

-1**The Dinner and The Showstopper**

"This is weird."

They've been driving for only two miles when Summer makes her abrupt confession. It's been a silent ride so far - now that they've finally admitted to wanting to see each other outside of group hangouts and tragedies, they don't know what else to say. Lines for situations like theirs are blurry at best and they don't want to cross something they can't come back from.

"Sorry," is Ryan's automatic response, and she has to laugh.

"You apologize too much," she tells him, and both their lips quirk when he shrugs and says it again.

Another minute passes and then Ryan breaks the silence. "Okay, this _is_ really weird. I don't even know where I'm driving." Summer looks askance at him. "I didn't know where you'd want to go. I - I don't even know if you prefer seafood or Italian."

He sounds frustrated at not knowing such a small detail and Summer has to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth from splitting into a grin. The thing is, she doesn't think Seth knows either, but he's never thought to ask.

Lately, she's begun to feel like she's like his own personal comic book - all mapped out in black and white according to his vision, the outlines indelibly bold strokes. With Ryan, she feels like she's the artist and she can fill in the blanks with all the vibrant colors she wants.

"I'm allergic to seafood," she informs him. "I ate shrimp when I was fourteen and spend three days in the hospital."

Ryan nod and his blue eyes twinkle when he glances over at her. "Italian it is, then."

XXX

He takes her to a place just outside the city limits, and with every mile they put between them and Newport, Summer can feel herself relaxing. The restaurant looks like a total dive from the outside, but when she opens her mouth to protest, Ryan chides her gently about judging books by their covers and takes her hand to lead her inside.

Their hands are complete opposites; hers small and smooth, his large and calloused. Still, their fingers fit together perfectly and Summer marvels at the sensation of his thumb brushing gently at her knuckles as a bored-looking hostess leads them through the surprisingly upscale interior.

"A candelit rable for two, huh?" Summer teases once they're seated. "You really know how to treat a gal, Atwood. How'd you know about this place?"

Immediately, she regrets her question. Her good mood dims as she wonders whether Marissa has ever sat in this seat, leaned across their plates to eat something from his fork, toyed with his foot under the table.

Ryan seems to sense the direction of her thoughts, because he touches her elbow - very lightly, as if he's afraid to leave fingerprints - and confides, "I used to wash dishes here, for extra cash. Trey's drug deals didn't really cover the bills."

"Oh." She knows she has no right to feel as relieved as she does. But his casual talk of drug deals and minimum wage work remind her of something else. "You know, sometimes I forget we haven't always known you. That you used to be ..."

"Poor?" he supplies wryly.

She looks away from him. "No. Maybe. I guess." She shrugs uncomfortably. "It just feels like you've always been here. Do you ever ... miss your old life?"

Ryan considers. "I miss certain things. I mean, it was a completely different world, you know? There was more freedom, but not as many opportunities. I guess that doesn't make sense. But, yeah, I think I'm better off here. After all, I wouldn't have met the Cohens ... or Marissa ... or you."

He slips her in so softly that she thinks she might have imagined it. "Do you think what we're doing is wrong?" she asks, suddenly desperate for assurance. "I mean, I know it is. Being here, lying to Seth and Coop, I ... I know it's wrong. But ... I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

"You're not." Ryan reaches across the table to take her hand again and she presses back a sigh at how _right_ it feels. "It's not wrong, either. We haven't done anything."

"We lied to our friends," she points out, with an uncharacteristic quietness.

He can't really argue with that. He's only denying it to reassure her but the fact of the matter is, he has no idea what they're doing. Being together like this can only lead to heartbreak for all of them, but ... but he can't help wanting to do it anyway. It's wrong, it's awful, but it's true. He likes holding her hand, seeing her smile, having her ride shotgun instead of sharing glances in the rearview mirror.

"Okay. You're right. We lied," he admits. "And I hate it just as much as you. If you ..." This might kill him. "If you don't want to do this again, just say so."

Summer's mind flashes to what would happen if she really did put a stop to this. She says she doesn't want to see him like this again (which would be a lie), he takes her home, and then what? She curls up next to Seth on the couch and watches more kung-fu movies? Ryan avoids her gaze when they all hang out? It's not exactly a bright future.

"No, I - I want to." He keeps his eyes on hers, questioning. She nods and repeats, "I want to be here. I can't ... I can't imagine _not_ being here."

Ryan lets out a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. "Good. Me, neither."

A smile tugs at her lips. Ryan Atwood, man of few words. She sounds like an idiot; a rambling, panicking idiot while she pours her heart out, and he manages to pack enough emotion into three words that she's utterly convinced of his feelings. She likes that about him. She likes everything about him.

Their waiter materializes out of nowhere, posed with his pen in place. "Are you two all set to order?"

"Yes." Ryan says firmly, giving Summer a rare, heart-stopping grin. "We know what we want."

XXX

"Thank you for tonight, Ryan," Summer says yet again as she fumbles with her seatbelt. It's probably the fifth time she's said it since he pulled into her driveway, but she's stalling for time. She doesn't want the night to end. "It was fun."

"It was," he agrees, looking vaguely amused at her struggle with the buckle. "Here, let me..."

One click and she's free. Summer glances up to meet his eyes, thoroughly embarrassed. "I loosened it for you," she grumbles at him, starting to look away, but then he grabs her chin and fuses their lips together.

Embarrassment evaporates. So does, for that matter, all rational thinking powers. Summer feels herself being swept away by an overload of sensations and she doesn't even try to stop it. So what if this isn't the way it's supposed to be? Things change. They're not all the same people they were when Ryan first came to town. She's different now, he's changed her, and this feels _right._

She tears her lips away, only to have him immediately move down to her neck. She gasps and forgets what she was going to say, tries to breathe evenly. "Come inside."

"Your dad?" His words are muffled, since he doesn't see fit to remove his mouth from her skin.

"Away." Her toes tingle as his tongue finds her pulse point. "House is empty."

Ryan lifts his head at that, and his eyes are the darkest blue she's ever seen them, endless pools of longing that she thinks she could drown in. "Are you sure?"

She knows he's not asking about the house anymore. Summer nods. It's not her hormones talking - although, God, they're _singing_ right now - and it's not the thrill of the chase, or the secrecy, or the 'forbidden fruit' aspect. It's the fact that he's Ryan and his hands, calluses and all, are more gentle than anything she's ever felt and he listened to everything she said during dinner, even that stupid story about her crazy Aunt Mae, and she _wants_ him.

"I'm sure."

As if to spite her, her cell phone rings at that very moment, the opening notes of _The Valley_'s theme song cutting her off. With a groan, Summer fumbles for it, then Ryan sees her eyes widen and pulls himself away.

"Marissa?" Summer answers, shooting him a look. "What bag? Oh. Okay, well, I can bring it by tomorrow if - what? Oh. You need it in the morning? Okay. No, that's fine. Yeah, I'll see you in a few."

She hangs up and her heart breaks a little when she realizes Ryan already has the car started up. "She's on her way," she reports.

"I should leave." His hair is disheveled from her fingers running through it, his clothes rumpled. She probably looks just about as guilty. "I'll call you?"

"Yeah." Summer is defeated as she hops out of the car. Her feet feel like they're hitting the ground for the first time all night. "Yeah, I'll see you."

"Summer?" He pokes his head out his window and she shuffles back to the car, wondering what else he can say. As usual, he chooses silence, instead just cupping the back of her head and pulling her close for another mind-melting kiss. "I'll talk to you later. Okay?"

"Sure," she agrees, hoping she sounds nonchalant. "Drive safe."

She's sure to wait until his taillights have disappeared before hugging herself and letting out the squeal she's been holding in all night.


	17. The Step That Comes Next

-1**The Step That Comes Next**

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

Ryan fidgets in his seat. He knows why Kirsten is so surprised. He'd just been here a week ago, after all, telling her how everything was fine and how much better everyone's doing. Now here he is, two minutes after visiting hours have begun, obviously sleep-deprived and anxious.

"I know, I - I didn't think I'd be back." He sighs. "Or I thought I'd at least be bringing Seth. Don't think he's avoiding you, I, uh ... I didn't invite him this time."

Kirsten, her mother's instinct kicking in, tilts her head to the side. "Why not?"

"I didn't want him to know why I was here."

Now Kirsten sits up straight, worry etching itself into her features. "Ryan. What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

"Not the kind of trouble I'm usually in." He laughs, more because he's miserably uncomfortable than anything else. "I ... okay. Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if Jimmy came back and you realized you still loved him?"

"Well, I don't," is Kirsten's pragmatic reply.

She's not making this any easier. Ryan sighs. "Hypothetically, though. You guys discovered you were still madly in love with each other. What would you do? If you act on it, you're hurting Sandy, Julie, everyone you care about. But ... you can't stop."

"Oh." Kirsten nods ass understanding dawns. "This must have something to do with Summer. Am I right?"

He gapes at her, his surprise evident. It's the first time she's ever been able to read his emotions plainly on his face. "How did you - what are you talking about?"

"Ryan." She smiles - more kindly than he'd expected, considering it's her son's girlfriend he's talking about. "I'm not entirely oblivious. I could tell something was going on from the way you two were acting last weekend."

"Well, that's not good." He hopes they haven't acted so transparently in front of everyone else they know. Then again, both Seth and Marissa are far more self-absorbed than Kirsten. "I mean, we haven't actually ... we haven't done anything awful. I don't want you to think that. I just - I don't know what to do. What should I do?"

Kirsten wishes she could savor this moment. The first time Ryan turns to her for advice, and it's about cheating on a longtime girlfriend, betraying a brother. Why couldn't he just need help choosing a college? "Well, Ryan, I can't really tell you where to go from here. No one can. It's something you have to decide for yourself."

He sighs again, leaning back in his chair. "I was afraid you might say that."

"But I can tell you," she continues, leaning forward just a little, "That when I first met Sandy, and I was still with Jimmy, I told myself no way. Wasn't gonna happen. I was with Jimmy and that was that. And, well, you can see how that ended up."

Ryan is silent for a long minute, digesting that information. "But ... I mean, obviously you and Sandy are happy. I know that. But do you ever regret your decision? Hurting Jimmy like that?"

"Oh, honey. People grow up. I know it doesn't feel like that right now, but it's the truth. Jimmy moved on. We _all_ moved on." Kirsten shrugs. "It's just how life works. Look at Jimmy and Sandy and I. We're friends now. Things fell into place."

He'd like to think that it could be like that. Somehow, thinking of Seth's countless insecurities and Marissa's endless needs, he doesn't think it will be that easy. "So you're saying I should go for it?"

Here, Kirsten hesitates. "Ryan, it's not that I'm saying you should steal Summer away from Seth, or that I'm choosing sides. I love you both equally. But I saw how you and Summer were about each other. I think she could give you the kind of happiness I want for you. And, well, to be frank, I think she and Seth had a lovely high school relationship. I think she helped him be more sure of himself. But high school relationships usually end there."

"Do you think Marissa and I are a high school relationship, too?" He thinks he already knows the answer to that one, but a second opinion can't hurt.

Kirsten purses her lips. "Truthfully? I don't think she helped you very much at all. She brought a lot of stress into your life - and vice versa."

Ryan can't argue that. He doesn't even try.

"Whatever you do," Kirsten tells him, when it becomes clear he's not going to speak again. "Just remember that leading someone on is the worst thing you can do. Be honest - but be gentle. You all love each other. It might take some time, but I promise, things will eventually get back to normal."

He nods, taking all of this in, then stands up and leans to hug her. "Thank you," he whispers in her ear, as she returns the embrace. "Come home soon, okay?"

"Good luck," she says, and wishes the same for all of her family as he exits.

XXX

Summer can't understand anything Marissa is saying.

It's late, almost too late for a phone call to be acceptable, but she's still extremely awake. She feels like she's been on caffeine pills since kissing Ryan after their date last night. Sleep is impossible with all the things running through her head - When will she see him again? Should she tell Seth it's over? What is Ryan doing at this very instant?

"Coop, you've gotta slow down," Summer coaches, coming back to reality at the sound of her best friend's blubbering across the phone line. "I can't understand you. What's wrong?"

One big gasp, then another, and Marissa is composed enough to form a sentence. "It's Ryan," she begins, and Summer sits up so fast she almost falls off the bed.

"Is he okay? Did something happen?"

Summer's mind races with scenarios. With Ryan's penchant for heroism and his incredible tendency to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time, just about anything could have gone wrong. She's picturing breaking up gang fights and yanking little old ladies out of traffic when Marissa speaks again.

"He broke up with me."

_Hallelujah._

She's a little bit ashamed that it's the first thing she thinks, but Summer cant really help herself. She's crazy about this boy, after all. In any normal situation, a crush dumping his girlfriend would be cause for celebration. But then, in any normal situation, she would be able to squeal with Marissa about it and they would spend all day choosing an outfit for her to wear next time she saw him.

"Oh, my God," is what Summer actually says. "Are you ... are you serious? Why? What did he say?"

"He said he was sorry, but he didn't feel the same way about me that he used to. He said everything was so different now, and it wasn't anyone's fault, he just ..." Here, Marissa's voice broke a little. "He just doesn't love me anymore."

Is it possible to pass out from sheer shock? For all her daydreaming and wishful thinking, Summer hadn't actually seen this coming. This isn't what she'd wanted. Yes, she's completely head-over-heels in love with Ryan, but her best friend is sobbing and her own boyfriend is probably playing video games right now, utterly clueless, and she doesn't want to hurt either of them.

"Oh, Coop, I'm so sorry," Summer sighs, and Marissa can't know just how much she means it. "He probably just ... wasn't thinking straight."

It's a poor excuse and they both know it. Ryan isn't exactly a spontaneous person. "I don't know, Sum," Marissa sniffs. "He seemed like he'd given it a lot of thought. And the worst part is, he was saying all this stuff, and in my head, I was _agreeing_ with him. I knew he hadn't been the same since Trey. I should have seen this coming."

Summer doesn't know what to say. "Okay, Marissa, I'm going to come over, okay? Just ... give me a little bit, okay? I was in bed, I have to change and all that. But I'll be there soon, okay? Just stay put."

She hangs up, ignoring the little voice that is mockingly keeping track of how many times she's lied to her friends lately. Then she flips the phone back open and hits a button. "It's me," she says when Ryan answers. "Get over here. We need to talk."

She hits 'end' before he can reply, and wishes it was that easy in real life.


	18. The Losing Battle

-1**The Losing Battle**

Summer spends two minutes pacing her foyer and wondering what in the hell has gotten into Ryan, and then the doorbell rings.

She yanks it open, not all that surprised to find him on the other side. That is, after all, his _thing._ You call, he answers. "That was fast," she observes nevertheless.

Ryan steps inside. "I was already on my way here," he says by way of explanation. "I wanted to give you a heads up, but something tells me you already know."

"About you dumping my best friend?" Summer says. "Yeah. I heard. Ryan ... what were you thinking?"

He's taken aback by her hostility. "What was I ... I was thinking that I couldn't keep lying to her."

"About _us_?"

"About _everything_," he snaps back. Hearing his own tone, he takes a minute to reign his anger in. "Okay. Summer, even if everything with you and me hadn't happened, things were wrong between Marissa and I. I told you that."

"But I didn't think ..."she trails off, because that's just it, isn't it? She didn't think.

"We're not the same people anymore." Ryan shrugs again, sighs. "I'm tired of ... of having to be the hero every five seconds. It's hard to live up to that, you know. And I like how I can be when I'm with you."

"How can you be with me?"

"You know." Words aren't exactly Ryan's forte. "I'm just ... myself. There's no pressure. I laugh more with you. And when I'm not laughing, you stick with me anyway. I mean, I've never ... she's never ... you stayed, Summer. Things got bad and you stayed. Through Trey, the trial, the funeral. Everything."

"No." She shakes her head. He's misunderstood her question. "_How_ can you be with me? How do we expect this to work? Marissa's just going to wake up in the morning and be completely over you? I'll tell Seth I've fallen for his _brother_ and he'll just laugh and wish us the best of luck?"

Ryan stares at her. He'd known she had her doubts about this whole thing. For all her acts of bitchiness, Summer isn't one to actually deliberately harm someone else. But he'd been so sure, after their date last night, that they were right for each other. That they would both do whatever it took to be together.

"Summer." He pauses, gathers his thoughts. "I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do. If you want to stay with Seth ... I can't stop you."

Saying it is a killer, but he means it. There's nothing he can do to discourage her if she decides this whole thing has been a waste of her time and she's better off with someone easier, more stable. There'll be an awful lot of holes in the pool house's wall, but he can't stop her.

"Either way," he continues. "I needed to end things with Marissa. It's not fair to her to lead her on like that. I don't feel the same way I used to feel. She deserves better than that."

Summer can feel her defenses faltering. Is this why she feels so strongly for him? Because his loyalty is a force to be reckoned with? Because he can somehow be honorable even when dumping his longtime girlfriend for her best friend?

"It's not that I -" Her throat catches and she has to swallow before trying again. "It's not that I don't _want _to be with you. I do. I just ... how can we hurt everyone we care about, Ryan? How can we do that to them?"

"Kirsten said that it won't matter, in the long run," Ryan comforts her. "I asked her about her and Sandy and Jimmy, and she said that they were just kids, that things changed for the better. She said none of them hold any grudges."

"You talked to _Kirsten_ about this?" Horrified, Summer recoils. "You went to Seth's _mother_ and asked her what to do? About me and you?"

"She's my mother, too." This, he says quietly, but his eyes could burn holes in her. "I needed to know what she thought."

"Well, that's just great." She throws her arms up in the air in exasperation. "You broke up with Marissa and you told Kirsten. This just keeps getting better."

"I don't want to argue," Ryan cuts in, before she can truly begin to rant. "My breaking up with Marissa was my own choice. I would have done it regardless of what happened between _us_. I just ... I want to be with you, Summer."

She melts. He says it like it's simple, like it's the only thing that matters, and how can she walk away from that? "I want to be with you, too," she confesses, all in a rush, because she wants it to be just that easy. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, everyone lives happily ever after. Isn't that how the movies always go?

"Well." A smile flits across Ryan's lips. It amazes her how just that one change makes him look like a totally different person. "That works out, then."

Their lips are almost touching when there's a noise at the door.

It's not a loud noise, just a scoff, really, but it's enough. They turn, in tandem, and then freeze. The door is still open and Seth stands framed in it, a portrait of disbelief.

"You've ... you've gotta be kidding me," he says. He makes another noise, a kind of strangled laugh, like they really might be joking. "You ... you're ..."

It's the first time Summer has ever seen him speechless. "Seth, it's not what you're thinking," she hastens to do damage control. "It's not - we can explain."

"I don't believe this," he mutters, and then he steps forward, fists clenched, and swings.

XXX

Seth's fist connects with Ryan's jaw and the world stops.

Ryan's head snaps back, his vision blurs. The pain registers, but not the reality behind it. Seth is punching him. _Seth_ is punching _him_. Seth has caught him with Summer and he is angry, hurt, betrayed, outraged, and he is _punching_ him.

Seth's knuckles feel like they explode, but he ignores the stinging sensation. He is running on pure adrenaline here, winding up for another blow without even a pause. Ironic, because he's never been a fighter and Ryan's a world-class champion, but he thinks he might actually be able to do some damage.

Summer is the one who finally steps forward to take control. She pounds on Ryan's back, tugs at Seth's shirt, demands that both of them stop acting like children.

But she is easy to push aside.

Ryan recovers quickly from the sucker-punch and fights back, because that is what he does. He bends to slam his shoulder into Seth's chest, sending his brother stumbling back. He is gearing up to hit again, because if there's one thing Ryan knows, it's how to win a fight - you don't stop swinging until the other guy does.

And then Seth stops. He is still falling backward, pushed off balance by Ryan's shove, and then the back of his skull cracks against the wall. Ryan pulls back, fist still clenched, and watches - horrified - as Seth's eyes roll black, as he slumps down to the floor.

Summer is screaming again. "Stay back, Ryan! Stay back!" It takes all her might - and a healthy dose of fear-driven panic - to drag him away from Seth's lifeless body. "Just calm down and call 911, okay?"

He notices as he dials that, this time around, she doesn't try to tell him everything will be fine. She looks just as scared as he feels as she arranges Seth so that her head lays in her lap and tries to find his pulse.

"I didn't -" He manages to meet her gaze as the back of his throat closes up on him. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Her eyes are darker than he's ever seen, and she looks at him like she doesn't even know him as she says, "I didn't, either."

They both thank God when the paramedics arrive.

The team works to lift Trey onto a stretcher and into the ambulance as a crowd begins to gather outside the motel room. A small scuffle breaks out between a distraught Ryan and the unwise EMT who objects to him riding along.

"There's only room for _one_," the EMT emphasizes, pushing him back.

Ryan sends a helpless glance over the man's shoulder, to where Summer is sitting beside Seth's stretcher, clasping his hand. Their eyes lock over his limp form and she says nothing.

The doors slam shut.


	19. The Ties That Bind

-1**The Ties That Bind**

_Three weeks later..._

"Ryan?"

It's followed by a tentative knock on the pool house door, and Ryan debates whether or not to answer. He knows it's Sandy, knows what he's coming to say. It's just a question of whether or not he can bear to listen today.

"Ryan?" Outside, Sandy fights back impatience. He isn't one to easily lose his cool, but he feels like he's been living in a war zone for almost a month now and he is tired of walking on eggshells. Besides, he has important news and he'd like to share it with his family, as divided as they are right now. "Can I come in?"

This piques Ryan's interest because it's not a part of the usual routine. Every other day for the past three weeks, Sandy has simply knocked once, said his name, and waited in silence. He hasn't pressed the issue any further than that.

Seconds later, the door opens and he waves Sandy inside.

"You look good," Sandy comments, studying the boy's face. Ryan still looks worn down, as if he's several years older than eighteen, but his eyes are less blood-shot and his knuckles aren't swollen from another session with his punching bag. "You feel okay?"

"I'm not the one who had the concussion," Ryan points out, and they both fall silent.

After the ambulance carrying Seth and Summer had disappeared, Ryan's first thought had been to call Sandy. To his credit, the man hadn't asked any questions or cast any blame. He'd simply done what he did best - talked and signed papers until the problem was taken care of. Never would it be said that Ryan didn't have himself a good lawyer.

But the rest of the fallout hadn't been so painless. Seth had refused to see him during his overnight stay at the local hospital - or at any time after. Summer, too, had disappeared from Ryan's life - no phone calls, letters, visits, nothing. He'd wanted to call her - it seemed like the idea flashed through his mind every five minutes, at least - but then he thought of the dullness that had been in her eyes as the ambulance doors closed between them and lost his nerve.

"So?" he prompts, when Sandy has yet to say anything else. "What's up?"

"I've got some good news." Sandy's eyes crinkle when he smiles, a fact Ryan had almost forgotten. "That'll be something different, right?"

It doesn't earn the smile he'd been aiming for. "I'm sorry, Sandy," Ryan sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "For Seth, for ... everything."

"Ryan." He sets a hand on the younger boy's shoulder, not gripping, but steadying. "Everything is going to work out for the best. I know things look bleak right now, but ... Seth is going to come around. The two of you will get past this. Brothers fight."

"Seth doesn't fight. Seth and I don't fight." Frustrated, Ryan shakes his head, briefly closes his eyes. "I'm sorry. You said you had news."

Sandy doesn't want to change the subject, not when Ryan is actually acknowledging it openly for the first time. But he thinks what he has to say might move them all a step closer to normal. "The clinic is releasing Kirsten this afternoon," he says and, despite everything, there is a note of hope in his voice. "She'll be here around three. I was hoping you'd come up to the house to welcome her back."

There is a moment of hesitation. Ryan hasn't stepped foot in the main house since Seth had first closed his bedroom door on him. "Of course I'll be there," he finally says, because there is no way he can refuse. "I wouldn't miss it."

XXX

The house looks just the same as when she left it and, for that, Kirsten is grateful. She knows, from Sandy's phone calls and Ryan's most recent visit, that things are different now. She can feel the changes in herself as well, but it's nice to know that some things - granite and glass and garbage disposals that have never worked properly - are constants.

Sandy is waiting for her by the door as the taxi drops her off. He greets her with his familiar embrace, solid and warm, and Kirsten can't help but melt a little. "Oh, it's good to be home," she murmurs into his chest before pulling back. "Where are the boys? How are they?"

"Things are still rough around the edges," Sandy says honestly, not entirely removing his grip from her shoulders as he leads her into the kitchen. "But I think seeing you will help."

"Mom." Seth jumps up from the seat he's been fidgeting in, crossing the room in two long strides to hug her. "I've missed you. How are you?"

"Better." She fingers his curls, patting them down like he's a two year old again. For once, he doesn't seem to mind. "How are _you_?"

It's a loaded question - they all know about the event that led up to his concussion, but it has yet to be acknowledged. "Fine," he says briefly, stepping back.

Ryan hurries to fill the void he leaves in his mother's arms, seeing the hurt flash across Kirsten's face. "We're glad you're back," he tells her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Oh, you boys," Kirsten sighs, taking both of them in with one sweeping gaze. "Things have been so difficult lately. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Ryan is quick to assure her, but he can feel Seth's accusatory gaze on him. "Things just ... happened."

Seth scoffs, loudly, and pushes himself off the countertop he's been leaning against. "I'm leaving," he announces and cuts off his father's protests with a curt, "Mom, I'll see you later for dinner. I'll bring home takeout."

He's out the door before anyone can stop him, and Sandy and Kirsten exchange long looks. Ryan takes a deep breath, then grabs his keys. "I'll go after him."

"Ryan, you don't have to -"

"Yes, I do," he interrupts her somberly. "I have to make this right."

XXX

It isn't hard for Ryan to track Seth down - he knows all his brother's hideouts and he drives almost instinctively to the harbor. The first time Seth was disillusioned, he'd gone straight for his boat, and Ryan has a sneaking suspicion that things haven't changed that much.

Sure enough, Seth is there, hunched over his knees and staring out at the water like it can give him the answers he's looking for. He doesn't look up when Ryan approaches, but he says, "I don't blame you, you know."

Confused, Ryan settles himself on the ground, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. Who knows if Seth is one for revenge? "For what, exactly?"

"For the head trauma." Seth knocks lightly against his temples. "I shouldn't have swung at you in the first place. I deserved what I got."

"No, Seth, man, you didn't deserve -"

"I don't even blame you for what I overheard," he cuts in. He's still not looking at Ryan, but the talking is a definite improvement. "These past few weeks have made me think and I've realized ... you know, maybe Summer and I were never meant to be together like I convinced myself we were. I fell for this ... completely imaginary person. It was only ever going to work for as long as she was willing to fit the mold."

Ryan tries again. "We never meant for you to find out like that, Seth. We never meant for any of it to happen at all."

"I know." Seth hesitates, then continues. "I talked to her, you know. At the hospital, after they bandaged me up and all that. She said she would never see you again, if that's what I wanted."

He hadn't known it was possible to feel so hollow. "That's -" He swallowed, tried again. "That's understandable."

Seth chuckled mirthlessly. "Ryan, the last thing you need in your life is another excuse to play the martyr. I was looking right at her when she said it, and I've never seen anyone look so miserable - including you." He paused, shook his head. "She doesn't love me like that. She tried, we both tried, but ... if it's not right, it's not right."

Ryan didn't know what to say to that. He kept quiet instead, waiting for Seth to deliver whatever damnation he might come up with.

"So what are you still sitting here with me for?" Seth asked a minute later. "Go talk to her, already. Summer and I aren't supposed to be together, I get that. I'm glad we had the time we did, but ... I think you guys could be the real deal. I'm not going to stand in the way of that."

"But ..." Ryan stared at him, shell-shocked. "Seth, I can't - you're - there's -"

"You're my brother." And now, finally, Seth turned to look at him, brown eyes meeting blue for the first time since all hell had broken loose. "Do you really think I could forget that? You're my brother and I want you to be happy. So, go."

Ryan was silent for a long moment. Then, surprising both of them, he leaned in and hugged Seth, hard, before standing up. "Thank you for this," he said earnestly. "For everything."

"Back atcha, bro." Seth smiled, a real smile, and Ryan thought they just might be okay after all.


	20. The Way We Were

**The Way We Were**

Ryan makes one stop on his way to Summer's house.

He stands on the Cooper porch waiting to be let in and feels oddly nervous. It's probably the only time he's come calling in a proper manner and, as usual with Marissa, he's unsure how he'll be received. She'd taken the breakup well, all things considered, but now that the rest of the story has come to light, her feelings have probably changed.

"Ryan." Julie opens the door, her posture rigid, her face composed. "Marissa's not seeing guests at the mom –"

"Mom, it's fine." The girl in question appears, coming to _his_ rescue for once. "Hi, Ryan."

"Marissa, are you sure?" Her mother speaks like he's not standing directly in front of them. "After everything he's put you –"

"Mom." Marissa shoots him an apologetic smile. "It's fine. Please."

With one last withering look in Ryan's direction, Julie relents. "Fine," she sighs, "But if you need me, I'll be in the kitchen."

"Sorry about that," Marissa says when the older woman has disappeared. Instead of inviting him in, she steps outside to join him, pulling the door shut behind her. He can just picture Julie leaning against it with a glass to her ear. "She's a little overprotective since … everything."

"Yeah." Ryan nods, shifts his weight uncomfortably. "Look, Marissa, I'm sure you've heard things lately. About me. And Summer."

Her blue eyes give away nothing. "I might have heard a rumor."

"I just wanted you to know that I … I wasn't choosing her over you." Ryan shrugs, at a loss. "It wasn't like that. What I said to you, when I ended things, that was all true. We just didn't … make sense anymore."

"I know," she surprises him by agreeing. "I was glad you did it, in a way. You've always had more guts than me."

He shakes his head. "That wasn't me being brave. I should've told you everything, should've … I wish I'd been more honest."

"Ryan. You were telling me you didn't love me. Any more honesty probably would have killed me." Marissa lays a hand on his shoulder, her touch as gentle as her tone. "You were _right_ to end it. Don't get me wrong, I was heartbroken, but … it was time. We're not the same people we were a year ago. We shouldn't keep trying to be."

"But … Summer," he protests. "I shouldn't have –"

"Summer deserves to be happy," she cuts in. "And so do you, Ryan. Really. You're a good person. When I met you … you saved my life, okay? Probably more times than you should have had to. So I kind of owe you. And if letting you go is the only way to repay you, well, then, I'm going to do that. I _want_ to that. Okay?"

Ryan takes a step back and studies her. The changes are subtle – the haunted look in her wide eyes is gone, there's more color in her cheeks – but there all the same. She looks … content, he decides. It's the first time he's ever seen her and not thought, _That girl is lost_. "You're different," he declares.

"So are you," she counters, a small smile playing at her lips. "The Ryan I know would never be able to go this long without punching something."

His own mouth curves upwards, albeit somewhat tentatively. "Guess we're growing up, huh?"

"Must be." Marissa lets a long moment slide by, then casts her eyes sideways at him. "Don't you have someplace else to be?"

Ryan chuckles at that. "Thank you," he tells her earnestly, heading to his car.

"Hey, Ryan," she calls after him and he stops, turns back to face her from the driveway. "Tell her to call me. Okay?"

"Will do," he promises, then climbs inside the SUV, glancing at the rearview mirror only once before turning his attention to the road that stretches out ahead of him.

XXX

Summer sees Ryan's car turn into her driveway and, despite herself, despite everything that's fallen to pieces between them, goes straight to her mirror. She's spent the last few weeks avoiding everyone she knows and trying not to cry and the stress is beginning to show. Her eyes are shadowed, her pallor ashen, but she has enough time to apply the essential makeup before the doorbell rings.

She's sorely tempted to pretend she's not home – in fact, the rational side of her brain is screaming at her to do just that – but a much bigger part of her just wants to see him. It's been three weeks since they last laid eyes on each other and even though it's stupid, even though she knows nothing can change drastically in so short a time span, she needs to assure herself that he's the same.

"Ryan." She greets him stiffly, unsure of what to do with her hands. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you," he replies automatically. He's waiting at the threshold to be invited in and she wonders briefly how long he'll stand there, half in and half out. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah." Twenty one days, eleven hours, and thirty seven minutes – not that she's counting. "How's Seth?"

Hurt flickers through his eyes, there and gone so fast that she thinks she must have imagined it. "He's better. Back to normal, actually."

"Really?" She finds that hard to believe, mostly because she doesn't remember what normal is or how it feels. "So … did you need something or …?"

Ryan tells himself not to be fooled. He knows Summer; has every inch of her face memorized; can tell from the smallest inflection whether she's sad or happy or scared. And he knows that she is only keeping herself at such a distance because she doesn't want things to go wrong again. "Actually, yeah. I needed to tell you something."

She waits. "What?"

"I love you, Summer." Her face registers shock and he shakes his head. "Don't do that, don't act like … like you forget everything that happened between us. Don't shut me out like that, Summer."

"I just – I can't –" she stutters, stops. Composes herself. "I just thought … things are different now. I mean, Seth got hurt – we all got hurt. I thought that changed …"

"How I feel about you?" Ryan shakes his head again. "Not gonna happen."

"But we still can't be together," Summer protests. Her heart clenches in her chest, whirls on her, demands to know why not. "There's … Seth, and Marissa, and … we made people miserable, Ryan."

"No. What happened to Seth was an accident, he knows that. And what happened between us, before that – that's real, Summer. You know it was real. We can't just let it go."

"We have to," she insists. "I can't … I don't want to hurt the people I care about."

"So you'd rather be miserable instead?" he questions. "Summer, don't do that to yourself, okay? To _us_. Trust me, I speak from experience. It's no fun to always be the one who gives things up for the good of everyone else."

Summer falters. "But how – how can we face everybody? Seth, Marissa, your parents? We're … we messed everything up."

"We didn't." Ryan takes a chance and steps closer, so there's not an inch of space between them. "I talked to Seth and Marissa; they understand. They get it. We didn't mess anything up, we just … changed things. We _changed_."

"I think …" Summer bites her lip, still hesitating, but her fingers are tangling with the tips of his. "God. We really have changed, huh? Who would've ever thought – you and me? But … I think you're right. We've changed. And … I think we might be good for each other."

"Yeah?" He feels hopeful for the first time in weeks. "For real?"

Their hands are clasped now, fingers fitting together like they're meant to, and she doesn't look away as she says, "I like how I am when I'm with you. You make me feel like … like myself. I've never felt that way with Seth or anyone else."

"I've never felt like this before either," he murmurs, bringing her knuckles to his lips in a chaste kiss. "I feel like I belong with you."

The light sensation of his mouth brushing her skin, the way his blue eyes stare into hers and shine with a brightness she's never seen, everything about the moment is just a hint; a promise of what's to come. Knowing this, she removes her hand from his, instead wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him closer for a taste of the real thing.

Just before their lips meet, hers curve upwards. "We belong _together_," she corrects him. The words pass from her mouth to his, barely a whisper, but the truth all the same. They are, finally, right where they should be.

XXX

The End! Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave your final thoughts!


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